f 
'' 


BRADFORD,  N.  H. 
FREEJ-JBRARY. 

RULES  AND  REGULATIONS. 

No  book  or  other  property  belonging  to  the 
Library  shall  be  taken  from  the  Library  room 
without  the  consent  of  'he  Librarian. 

Any  person  entitled  to  Library  privileges, 
who  shall  take  any  book  from  the  Library 
room  without  allowing  the  usual  record  to 
be  made  of  the  loan  of  such  book,  shall  be 
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to  the  Library  to  any  one  outside  of  his  own 
household,  under  penalty  of  forfeiture  of 
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Books  must  not  be  kept  out  more  than 
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in  sending  for  the  same. 

Borrowers  owing  a  fine  shall  forfeit  all 
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replace  it  with  one  of  equal  value,  or  pay  the 
Librarian  for  the  same,  as  he  shall  determine. 

Class....  ....No. 


CALEB   KRINKLE. 


A    SI      ^Y   O^    AMERICAN    LIFE. 


CHARLES   CARLETON   COFFIN. 
"CARLETON," 


AUTHOR  OF   "WINNING   HIS   WAV,"  "OUR   NEW  WAV  ROUND  THE  WORLD,  "MY 
DAYS  AND  NIGHTS  ON  THE   BATTLE-FIELD,"  ETC. 


BOSTON : 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW    YORK  : 

LEE,  SHEPARD,   AND  DILLINGHAM. 

1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

CHARLES   CARLETON    COFFIN, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


TO 


MAJOR  ALFRED  LITTLE, 


AND   THE   STEADFAST    FRIEND   OF    MY    LATER    YEARS, 


THIS   VOLUME   IS 


AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGB 

I.  MILLBROOK             ......            I 

II.  WHITE  HAIR'S  FIRST  BATTLE  .  .  8 

III.  SUNDAY  IN  MILLBROOK  .  18 

IV.  DAN  DISHAWAY  .....  33 

V.  WHITE  HAIR  AT  SCHOOL  ....  47 

VI.  WORTH  HER  WEIGHT    IN  GOLD        .             .             -54 

VII.  THE  SPECTRE   THAT  APPEARED  TO    MR.    MEEK      67 

VIII.  HOW  RANDA  WENT  OVER  THE   RIVER     .             .         73 

IX.  THE  SPELLING-MATCH               ....         78 

X.  THE    LADY    IN     BLACK              .             .             .                      9! 

XI.  THE     VVAYLAND    KAMILV          .             .             .             .96 

xii.  JAKE  NUBBIN'S  PRESENT      ....     107 

xni.  DAN  DOESN'T  SEE  IT  .....     116 

XIV.  BOILING  SAP          .             .             .             .             .             -131 

XV.  SUGARING     OFF                 .....       140 

XVI.  POETIC     DAYS       .            .            .            .            .            .152 


vi  Contents. 

XVII.  THANKSGIVING    .              ...                          •  r59 

xvin.  LINDA'S  GIFT.  AND  HOW  IT  CAME         .         •  '  79 

XIX.  HOW  THINGS   WERE  TURNED  TOPSY-TURVY     .  189 

XX.  LOVE  THAT  CAN  WAIT              ....  IQ9 

XXI.  STRIKING  OUT  IN  THE  WORLD      .             .             .211 

XXII.  CALLING  ON  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE     .             .  2l6 

xxiii.  BERTHA'S    FIRST  APPEARANCE  IN    SOCIETY  223 

xxiv.  LINDA'S  BRAIN  IN  A  WHIRL       .                  .  236 

XXV.  THE    BRIGHT    STAR    OF    SOCIETY    .                           .  242 

XXVI.  DOCTORS    IN    COUNCIL               ....  248 

XXVII.  PETER    AND    HIS    PATIENT     .              .                          .  259 

XXVIII.  MOSES    BURNS   THE    MIDNIGHT   GAS          .            .  271 

xxix.  BERTHA'S  DINNER-PARTY         .      .         .         -279 

XXX.  MOSES   COOKS    CALEB'S   GOOSE          .            .            .  289 

XXXI.  A    DAY    AT    NAHANT       .              .                                       .  299 

XXXFI.  WHAT    HOPE    AND    FEAR    SAID    TO    LINDA          .  313 

xxxin.  MR.  MEEK'S  LITTLE  GAME  .                          -319 

XXXIV.  MR.    BLOSSOM      FINDS     FAULT     WITH     MOSES' 

WATCH-CHAIN         .....  329 

XXXV.  LITTLE    MAID'S    HEAD    IS    LEVEL    .            .            .  336 

XXXVI.  MR.    MEEK    TWISTS    HIS    WHISKERS           .             .  344 

XXXVII.       DISAPPOINTMENTS 355 


Content*.  vii 

XXXVIII.  A  SHIPWRECK    .        .  .    363 

XXXIX.  THE  GREAT  SORR«W  .     374 

XL.  WHAT  MR.  KETCHUM  DISCOVERED  .         .381 

XLI.  BERTHA'S  STRANGE  WAYS  .     392 

XLII.  ONLY  A  ROSE    .        .  404 

XLIII.  THE    KINDNESS    OF    THE    RIVER  TO    MR. 

PICKET           .                         .             .  .            .415 

XLIV.  MOSES  PLAYS  A  GAME  AND  LOSES  IT          .421 

XLV  MRS.  PICKET'S  RAG-BAG      .         .  .         .431 

XLVI.  A  SMOULDERING  FIRE  BURSTS  INTO  FLAME     442 

XLVII.  A  GREAT  QUESTION            .  .         -451 

XLVIII.  A  GREAT  HOPE  FADES  AWAY      .  .     460 

XLIX.  IN  GOD'S  GOOD  TIME  .     465 

L.  AT    HOME                            .  476 

LI.  A    BUZZING    IN    MILLBROOK              .  .             .       483, 

LII.  THE    OLD    HOME              .  .                   494 


CALEB   KRINKLE, 


A  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

MILLBROOK. 

A  HUNDRED  years  have  passed  away  since  the  Rever- 
JL\.  end  Phineas  Stevens  preached  to  the  people  of  Mill- 
brook.  It  is  probable  that  not  one  in  a  hundred  of  the  present  • 
generation  would  ever  have  known  that  such  a  man  once  walked 
the  earth  if  the  good  minister,  by  a  wise  and  beneficent  fore 
thought,  had  not  secured  a  mortgage,  so  to  speak,  upon  the 
gratitude  of  all  who  might  come  after  him. 

Being  a  man  of  faith,  and  believing  that  there  would  be 

o  o 

somebody  alive  after  he  was  dead  who  would  take  pleasure 
in  beholding  the  beautiful  things  in  nature,  and  having  a 
desire  to  do  what  he  could  to  make  life  pleasant  to  every 
body,  he  devoted  a  portion  of  his  time  to  the  planting  of 
trees  along  the  wide  and  level  streets  of  the  village. 

Millbrook  is  not  an  incorporated  town,  and  the  littl.  stream 
that  has  given  a  name  to  the  place  i ;  not  large  enough  to  bj 
called  a  river,  for  when  nvja.su red  f/om  irs  source  among  t'.r_- 
hills  to  where  it  joins  the  Me'/rimac!;  the  distance  i;  not 
more  than  six  or  seven  milj.s,  if  the  wiiu'.livj;  of  th j  s^'j.'.m 
are  not  taken  into  accoun'. 

At  first  it  is  a  little  rivulet  trickling  over  rounded  pebbles, 

I 


2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

and  then  it  gurgles  with  louder  voice  along  a  rocky  bed  in 
the  sheep  pasture,  and  rushes  down  white  granite  ledges,  as 
if  in  haste  to  reach  the  wide  meadows  below ;  but  when  it  has 
reached  them  it  idles  its  time  away,  winding  here  and  there 
and  turning  upon  itself,  as  if  about  to  retrace  its  course  ;  and 
then,  having  meandered  pretty  much  all  over  the  verdant 
lowlands,  runs  into  the  woods  and  plays  truant  awhile,  as  re 
luctant  to  move  on  as  a  slothful  school-boy.  When  it  can 
linger  no  longer  it  comes  boldly  through  a  gap  in  the  hills ; 
it  plunges  headlong  over  the  dam  by  the  grist  mill,  dashes  its 
spraytupon  the  rocks  below,  and  then  moves  leisurely  across 
the  interval,  past  the  old  elms,  to  the  Merrimack  river,  and 
that  is  the  last  of  it. 

The  old  elms  glorify  the  valley.  People  from  far  away 
come  to  see  them.  Young  men  and  women  sit  beneath 
them  by  the  hour  sketching  the  surrounding  scenery,  —  the 
green  meadows,  the  winding  river,  the  hills  dotted  with  farms 
and  waving  with  corn  and  wheat,  and  the  blue  mountains 
in  the  distance  filling  the  background.  When  school  is  out 
the  children  play  around  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  or  leap  up 
and  grasp  the  low-bending  branches,  as  if  to  shake  hands  with 
their  dear  old  friends. 

In  the  calm  moonlight  evenings  the  grown  up  boys  and 
girls  stroll  arm  in  arm  along  the  beaten  path,  or  sit  upon  the 
gnarled  roots,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  whispering 
sweet  words  in  each  other's  ears,  till  their  hearts  are  all  aglow, 
and  the  future  seems  like  an  elm-shaded  avenue,  along  which 
they  will  walk  hand  in  hand  forever, — ••  after  they  graduate 
from  the  academy  or  college. 

The    robins   sing   among  the  branches,  and   the  orioles 
weave  their  hanging  nests  upon   the  bending  twigs.     With 
every  gentle  breeze  there  is  a  soft  murmuring  among  the 
leaves,  as  if  the  benedictions  of  the  old  pastor  were  still  floa' 
ing  in  the  air. 


Millbrook.  3 

The  old-fashioned  two-storied  houses,  with  yards  in  front 
of  them,  are  spacious  and  roomy.  The  meadows  and  low 
lands  along  the  river  have  yielded  such  abundant  harvests  in 
other  days  that  the  thrifty  owners,  by  industry  and  economy, 
are  able  to  keep  their  houses  neat  and  trim  and  the  white 
paint  fresh  and  clean,  and  to  give  a  new  coat  to  the  green 
blinds  now  and  then. 

Lilacs,  damask  and  cinnamon  roses  bloom  under  the  win 
dows  in  the  front  yards,  and  petunias  and  morning  glories 
open  their  white  and  purple  bells  beside  the  gravelled  walks. 

High  above  the  trees  rises  the  spire  of  the  meeting-house, 
with  a  gilded  cock  upon  its  topmost  point.  Upon  the  sides 
of  the  tower  the  golden  hands  of  the  clock  point,  now  to 
the  graves  in  the  yard  below  and  now  to  heaven,  as  if  to  say 
to  the  people,  "The  loved  ones  whom  you  have  laid  in  the 
ground  are  not  here — but  there. 

Every  morning  during  the  year,  excepting  on  Sunday, 
punctually  at  seven  o'clock,  the  gray-haired  sexton  rings  the 
bell,  to  let  the  people  know  that  it  is  breakfast  time.  He 
rings  at  noon  for  dinner,  and  when  nine  o'clock  comes  round 
at  night,  he  once  more  sets  it  swinging,  and  then  the  lights 
that  have  been  blinking  in  the  valley  and  on  the  hills  disap 
pear  one  by  one,  the  clerks  in  the  stores  put  up  the  shutters, 
and  men  and  boys  who  have  been  telling  stories  on  the  piazza 
of  the  hotel  walk  down  the  street  to  their  homes,  and  long 
before  midnight  the  last  light  is  extinguished. 

The  stage  that  passed  through  Millbrook  was  driven 
by  Peter  Smart.  He  was  accustomed  when  opposite 
the  house  of  Mr.  Blossom,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  village, 
to  chirrup  to  his  team,  and  the  horses  always  understood 
what  he  wanted,  for  all  six  pricked  up  their  ears,  straight 
ened  their  traces,  and  leaped  ahead,  as  if  to  let  the  people 
of  Millbrook  know  that  they  were  not  at  all  wearied  after 


4  Caleb  Krinkle. 

their  ten-mile  trot.  When  opposite  the  church,  where  the 
bell  was  giving  them  a  welcome,  Peter  raised  his  right  arm, 
swunsr  his  Ion™'  whip-stock  and  longer  lash  twice  above  his 

o  o  i  *-> 

head,  and  gave  a  crack  that  could  be  heard  from  one  end 
of  the  village  to  the  other.  The  horses  thereupon  broke 
into  a  gallop,  and  whirled  the  coach  with  its  passengers  and 
its  mountain  of  baggage,  as  if  it  was  a  child's  toy,  up  to  the 
piazza  of  die  "  Flying  Eagle." 

The  round-faced,  big-bellied  landlord  never  failed  of  be 
ing  on  the  piazza  to  let  down  the  steps  of  the  coach,  open 
the  door,  and  bow  to  the  ladies  on  the  back  seat  and  the 
gentlemen  on  the  front  seat. 

"  Dinner  is  ready,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  was  ever  his 
salutation. 

The  passengers  washed  the  dust  from  their  faces,  brushed 
their  clothes,  and  then  ate  a  hearty  dinner  of  roast  beef, 
chicken,  boiled  ham,  with  vegetables,  and  the  whitest  of 
bread  and  sweet  yellow  butter,  finishing  off  with  plum  pud- 
cling,  apple  pie  and  cheese. 

There  was  so  much  good  cheer  at  the  "  Flying  Eagle," 
the  houses  were  so  neat  and  trim,  and  the  old  elms  standin^ 

O 

on  both  sides  of  the  street,  overarching  it  with  t'.-.eir  inter 
lacing  limbs,  so -glorified   the  town,   that   all   who   passed' 
through  it  said  to  their  friends  or  to  themselves,  that  it  was 
one  of  the  pleasantest  places  in  the  world. 

When  the  passengers  were  through  with  their  dinner  and 
were  seated  in  the  coach  once  more,  Peter  Smart,  wi.h  a 
cigar  in  his  mouth  and  the  reins  in  his  hands,  climbed  to 
his  seat ;  not,  however,  till  he  said,"  Steady,  there  !  "  to  the 
two  leaders,  who  were  impatiently  waiting  for  the  word  to 
go.  As  young  misses  dance  a  few  steps  when  the  music 
strikes  up  before  the  cotillon  begins,  through  the  overflow 
of  sensuous  enjoyment,  so  the  leaders  pranced  and  pir- 


Millbrook.  5 

ouetted  till  they  heard  the  word  from  the  master  of  cere 
monies  behind  them;  and  when  he  said,  "Now,  ladies," 
they  settled  to  their  work  as  if  it  was  their  sole  enjoyment 
in  life. 

But  this  spurt  of  earnestness  and  excellence  was  of  short 
duration,  like  our  spasms  of  goodness,  or  like  first  of  Jan 
uary  resolutions.  It  ended  at  the  store  where  Peter  drove 
up  to  take  on  the  mail-bag,  which  was  brought  out  from 
the  post  office,  somemncs  by  Mr.  Meek,  the  post-master,  a 
very  polue  gentleman,  with  sandy  hair,  side  whiskers,  flor 
id  complexion  and  very  white  teeth,  and  sometimes  by  a 
thi'-. -faced  clerk  with  his  hair  parted  in  the  middle.  When 
the  bag  was  kicked  into  its  place  under  the  driver's  seat, 
Peter  tickled  the  leaders'  flanks  to  let  them  know  he  was 
looking  after  them,  and  then  giving  a  crack  with  his  whip, 
which  all  six  knew  was  the  final  signal,  they  leaped  ahead, 
past  the  blacksmith's  shop,  where  AJr.  Fair's  hammer  was 
ringing  on  the  anvil ;  past  the  grist-mill,  where  the  white 
dust  of  the  grinding  had  settled  on  the  window-pares,  giv 
ing  an  appearance  of  age  to  the  building;  past  the  saw 
mill,  where  the  saws  were  eating  their  way  through  the  logs, 
and  then  galloped  over  the  bridge,  where  the  water  was 
hurrying  on  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  river. 

Beyond  the  bridge  there  was  a  farm-house  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  road  with  a  great  elm  in  front  of  it,  whose 
long  lithe  branches  reached  nearly  to  the  ground. 

The  house  was  large,  square  and  old  fashioned,  with  one 
door  fronting  the  road,  and  a  side  door  opening  upon  a 
piazza,  supported  by  posts,  with  a  trellis  and  lattice,  over 
spread  by  grape  vines. 

"  How  charming  !  "  It  \vasthe  one  exclamation  usually 
given  by  the  passengers  when  they  saw  how  neat  and 
trim  every  thing  was  about  the  yard,  how  the  chips  were 


6  Caleb  Krinkle. 

raked  up,  how  snug  the  wood-pile,  and  how  green  the  grass. 
There  was  a  charm  even  in  the  well-sweep,  inasmuch  as  it 
brought  to  mind  the  song  of  the  "  Old  Oaken  Bucket." 
The  garden  with  its  onion  beds,  its  hollyhocks,  sunflowers 
southern-wood  and  sweet  williams,  the  cherry  trees  in  one 
corner,  and  the  old  pear  tree,  weary  with  age,  leaning  earth 
ward  and  decaying,  the  peach  trees,  the  bee-hives,  the  bird- 
house  upon  a  pole  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  with  martins 
hovering  around  it,  the  great  barn  with  its  surrounding  sheds, 
the  geese,  turkeys,  hens  and  roosters  in  the  yard,  the  doves 
wheeling  in  airy  circles,  the  swallows  sitting  in  rows  upon 
the  ridge-pole  and  merrily  twittering,  the  smooth  fields 
reaching  out  upon  the  intervale  to  the  river,  the  hills,  the 
mountains  in  the  distance,  —  all  combined,  made  it  ever  an 
enchanting  picture.  The  passengers  on  the  scat  with  the 
driver,  or  smoking  their  cigars  on  the  top  of  the  coach, 
usually  asked  who  lived  there.  So  often  had  the  ques 
tion  been  put  that  the  driver  was  always  ready  with  the 
reply :  - 

"  Captain  Krinkle.  He's  a  real  nice  man,  and  getting  to 
be  forehanded.  That  is  his  field  —  and  that  —  and  that  — ; 
his  farm  runs  away  over  t'other  side  of  the  hill,  and  down 
to  the  river,  —  hundreds  of  acres  of  the  best  land  there  is 
in  the  country,"  he  would  say,  pointing  with  his  whip  to 
the  different  portions  of  the  estate.  "  He  cuts  that  big 
barn  full  of  hay  and  keeps  blooded  stock, — Jerseys  and 
Short-horns.  He's  representative,  selectman,  moderator  at 
;  town  meetings,  justice  of  the  peace,  settles  estates,  and  if 
folks  get  into  difficulty  they  always  come  to  him  to  help 
'em  out.  They  swear  by  him.  He  carries  on  the  lumber 
business  besides.  He  is  a  real  square  up  and  down  hon 
est  sort  of  a  man.  There  ain't  his  equal  anywhere  round." 

The"!!   shifting   his  quid  of  tobacco    to   the  other  cheek, 
Mr.  Smart  was  accustomed  to  say  : — 


Millbrook.  7 

"  The  next  house  is  where  Mr,  Meek,  the  store-keeper,  lives. 
He's  driving  a  smashing  business,  for  a  young  man,  —  he  ain't 
more  than  twenty-five,  I  reckon.  He  hain't  been  here  but 
a  little  while,  but  he's  taking  pretty  much  all  the  trade 
hereabouts.  Come  from  New  York  way,  or  somewhere 
out  there.  He's  as  slick  as  ile,  and  if  he  hain't  got  his  eye 
teeth  cut,  then  I'll  lose  my  guess."  At  this  point  the 
driver  would  tip  a  wink  to  the  passengers  on  the  seat  with 
him,  and  he  would  do  it  in  such  a  manner  as  conveyed  the 
impression  to  his  hearers  that  there  was  far  more  in  the  wink 
than  had  been  expressed  in  words.  But  that  they  might  not 
think  he  was  prejudiced  against  Mr.  Meek,  he  would  imme 
diately  qualify  his  remarks  by  saying,  — 

"  I  wouldn't  have  you  think  there  is  any  thing  about  him 
that  isn't  right,  —  for  he's  one  of  the  nicest  appearing  men 
you  ever  see.  There  ain't  a  politer  man  anywhere  round, 
but  when  ye  come  to  trade  with  him,  my  advice  to  ye  is  to 
look  out.  He's  smarter  than  lightning.  He'll  take  your 
hide  right  off  of  ye,  and  he'll  do  it  so  slick  you  won't  know 
it.  They  say  he  married  rich  in  York  State.  Like  enough 
that's  so ;  but  I  reckon  Mrs.  Meek  is  a  heap  older  than  he 
is, — at  any  rate,  she's  got  gray  hairs,  though  she  manages  to 
keep  'em  out  of  sight  by  using  hair-dye.  Well,  that's  the 
way  of  the  world.  Most  all  of  us  do  something  to  cheat 
Time,  or  our  neighbors,  or  ourselves.  Don't  we,  now?  " 

The  driver  was  accustomed  to  close  his  monologue  by  this 
moral  reflection,  which  he  was  careful  to  apply  not  only  to 
himself  but  to  his  listeners  as  well. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHITE    HAIR'S    FIRST    BATTLE. 

CAPTAIN  KRINKLE  had  a  fair  and  lovely  wife, 
and  a  little  \vhitc-hairecl  boy  named  Caleb,  who 
held  the  cat  in  his  lap,  squeezed  her  under  his  arm, 
trail :d  a  string  for  her  to  catch,  tumbled  her  heels-over- 
hea.l  upon  the  door,  and  turned  things  topsy-turvy  in  a 
jrencrnl  \vnv  about  the  house. 

D  ^ 

When  lie  was  weary  of  such  sport,  he  busied  himself 
with  the  big  Bible,  taking  it  from  the  stand,  laying  it  upon 
the  floor  a'nl  looking  at  the  pictures. 

"That  is  little  Moses  in  the  bulrushes,"  said  his  mother, 
as  he  scanned  the  picture  of  a  baby  asleep  in  a  basket 
r.mid  the  rushes  on  the  bank  of  a  river. 

"  Moses  Meek?"  Caleb  asked,  thinking  of  Mrs.  Meek's 
bnv,  —  a  li'.tle  red-headed  fellow,  who  cf'en  ran  away  f/om 
home  to  play  with  him  in  the  garden.  It  was  delightful  to 
pi. iy  there,  even  when  Moses  was  not  there  to  keep  him 
company.  And  then  there  was  the  orchard,  with  its  shady 
places  beneath  the  trees,  equally  pleasant. 

A  sparrow  kept  flitting  around  a  suspicious  hole  in 
the  gnarled  trunk  of  the  old  pear  tree.  Whenever 
Caleb  came  near  the  tree,  the  bird  flew  away,  to  let 
him  know  there  was  nothing  particular  in  the  hole, 


White  Hair's  First  Battle.  9 

which,  however,  made  him  think  that  there  might  be  some 
little  eggs  in  there  that  he  would  like  to  get.  When  he 
tried  to  climb  the  tree,  a  robin  in  the  old  ehn  before  the 
house  cried  out,  "  White  H.iir!"  "White  Hair!"  as  if 
suspecting  what  he  was  about. 

His  father  and  mother  sometimes  called  him  White 
Hair,  and  so  did  Deborah,  the  girl  who  lived  with  them, 
as  did  also  Jonathan  Jolly,  the  young  man  who  worked  for 
them.  Mr.  Fair,  the  blacksmith,  when  he  passed  by  the 
house  to  and  from  his  work,  almost  always  said,  "  How  do 
you  do,  little  White  Hair?"  a:i:l  'now  the  birds  were  tak 
ing  it  up.  There  was  another  bird  with  a  white  vest  anil 
blue  co.it,  which  his  father  said  was  a  jay  bird,  that  called 
to  him  tormentingly,  "Cxleb!  Caleb!"  He  hurled  a 
stone  at  the  fallow,  throwing  it  as  high  as  he  could,  but  it 
did  not  go  half  way  up  to  the  saucy  chap,  who  kept  on 
saying  "Caleb!  Caleb!''  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
worth  noticing. 

He  had  a  little  white  cosset  lamb,  and  when  he  went 
out  to  the  barn  to  see  his  pet,  the  turkey-cock,  strutting 
and  swelling,  as  if  he  owned  the  entire  establishment, 
came  at  him  to  cl.'ive  him  off  the  premises,  and  the  geese 
stretched  out  their  long  necks  and  hissed  at  him  and  gab 
bled  together,  but  he  gave  the  egotistical  old  gobbler  a 
kick  in  the  stomach  that  made  him  stand  back,  and  poked 
the  gander  under  his  wings  with  a  stick,  that  sent  him  and 
all  his  hissing  wives  to  the  other  end  of  the  yard.  Then 
a  plucky  rooster,  with  green  and  gold  on  his  breast,  two 
magnificent  plumes  in  his  tail,  and  a  crimson  top-knot, 
jumped  upon  the  fence,  clapped  his  wings,  and  shouted  as 
loud  as  he  could,  "  Hurralvfor  you,  my  boy  !  " 

Caleb  laid  out  a  farm  on  the  green  sward  by  the  road 
side,  building  stone  walls  between  his  fields  and  pastures. 


io  Caleb  Krinkle. 

In  imagination  he  saw  his  fields  waving  with  grain  and 
his  pastures  filled  with  flocks  and  herds.  He  built  a 
palatial  farm-house  with  brick-bats. 

Moses  Meek,  the  merchant's  little  boy,  came  and  set  up  a 
store  close  by  the  farm,  with  pieces  of  board  for  his  shelves, 
which  were  piled  with  calico,  laces  and  ribbons  from  his 
mother's  rag-bag,  and  with  earthen  ware  in  the  form  of 
broken  crockery. 

On  a  pleasant  summer  afternoon  there  was  a  gathering 
of  mothers  in  Mrs.  Krinkle's  parlor  and  another  of  chil 
dren  beneath  the  old  elm  in  the  door-yard,  —  Mrs.  Meek, 
the  merchant's  wife,  Mrs.  Blossom,  who  lived  in  the  great 
white  house  at  the  other  end  of  the  village,  Mrs.  Fair,  the 
blacksmith's  wife,  and  Mrs.  May,  whose  husband  was  cash 
ier  of  the  bank.  They  came  to  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Krinkle. 
Mrs.  Meek  did  not  bring  Moses ;  he  came  in  advance,  wear 
ing  a  red  clolh  cap,  red  frock  and  red  morocco  shoes,  and  as 
he  had  a  red  freckled  face,  he  was,  taken  altogether,  a  flam 
ing  little  fellow.  He  was  munching  an  apple,  taking  the 
last  bite,  but  he  had  another  in  his  hand. 

•  "  Where  did  you  get  it?  "  Caleb  asked,  looking  wistfully 
at  the  red  ripe  fruit. 

"  Mr.  Fair  gave  it  to  me,  and  he  gave  me  another  for 
you.  I've  eaten  that,  but  this  is  mine,"  he  said,  biting  into 
the  second  one. 

Caleb  was  not  quite  able  to  comprehend  it,  and  wished 
that  Moses  had  eaten  the  second  one  first. 

Mr.  Fair,  although  a  blacksmith,  owned  a  nice  orchard, 
and  frequently  had  pears  or  apples  to  give  to  his  friends, 
the  children. 

Bell  Blossom,  the  greatest  little  romp  in  all  Millbrook, 
came  with  her  mother,  bringing  her  three  rag  babies.  She 
was  so  devoted  to  her  children  with  sawdust  brains  that 


White  Hair's  First  Battle.  n 

she  could  not  be  separated  from  them  an  hour,  but  took 
them  in  her  arms  whenever  she  went  visiting. 

Linda  Fair,  the  blacksmith's  daughter,  with  soft  brown 
hair  and  earnest  eyes,  gathered  her  apron  full  of  pansies, 
marigolds,  bachelor  buttons,  and  other  flowers  from  her 
mother's  garden,  picked  buttercups,  clover  blossoms  and 
dandelions  by  the  roadside,  and  poured  them  out  at  the 
feet  of  her  mates,  telling  them  to  take  all  they  wanted ;  she 
would  not  keep  any  herself,  for  there  were  enough  more  at 
home. 

Miranda  May  brought  nothing  but  her  own  sweet  self. 
Randa,  they  called  her,  —  Randa,  with  violet  eyes  and  win 
some  ways,  so  lovable  and  loving  that  the  old  gray-bearded 
men  who  met  her  on  the  street  caught  her  up  in  their 
arms  and  kissed  her. 

Randa  was  an  oracle  of  wisdom  to  Caleb,  Bell,  and 
Linda.  Whatever  she  said  or  did,  was  right  in  their  esti 
mation.  Moses,  however,  did  not  always  acquiesce  in  her 
decisions. 

The  little  mothers  tended  Bell's  babies  beneath  the  tree, 
held  them  in  their  arms,  or  laid  them  .down  to  sleep  upon 
the  grass.  Deborah,  while  attending  to  her  duties  in  the 
kitchen,  looked  out  upon  them  now  and  then.  She  was 
only  a  girl  of  larger  growth,  and  whenever  she  could  get  a 
few  minutes  of  spare  time  came  and  sat  with  them  beneath 
the  tree.  The  Mowers  that  Linda  had  brought  she  wove 
into  a  crown. 

"  And  now  you  must  choose  a  queen,"  she  said  to  the 
children. 

"  We  will  have  Randa  for  queen,"  said  Linda. 

"  Yes,  Randa,"  said  Bell. 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  Randa,"  said  Caleb. 

"  And  I'll  be  king,"  said  Moses. 


12  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"We  don't  have  kings,  only  queens,"  said  Deborah.  So 
Moses'  ambition  for  regal  honor  \vas  quenched  as  soon 
as  fired. 

'.'Yes,  you  shall  wear  the  crown,  you  precious  child," 
said  Deborah,  placing  it  on  Rancla's  brow  and  finishing  the 
coronation  ceremony  with  a  hug  and  kiss. 

"We  shall  wear  crowns  by  and  by  with  stars  in  them,  if 
we  are  good,"  said  Randa,  repeating  what  she  had  heard 
her  mother  say. 

"  I  never  heard  my  mother  say  so,  and  your  mother 
don't  know  any  more  than  mine,"  said  Moses. 

Deborah  told  them  that  she  would  get  up  a  picnic,  nnd 
went  into  the  house  to  prepare  for  it.  The  chil.lren  were 
not  quite  sure  \\hat  a  picnic  was,  but  they  believed  Debo 
rah,  and  knew  it  would  be  very  nice. 

When  Randa  had  worn  the  crown  awhile'  she  put  it  on 
Bell's  head  and  then  on  Linda's,  and  said,  "We'll  all  be 
queens." 

She  knew  by  an  ethereal  insight,  not  by  reason,  that 
though  Bel!  had  declared  for  her,  yet  that  there,  was  a 
longing  in  her  heart  to  be  a  sharer  of  the  honor,  an:l  more 
than  lhat,  she  thought  that  the  afternoon  might  be  happier 
even  to  Linda,  if  she  were  to  wear  for  a  little  while  the 
chapL-t  for  which  shj  had  furnished  the  (lowers.  So 
Randa  give  away  two  thirds  of  her  sovereignly  and  y^t 
retained  all  her  royalty,  it  was  love  that  prompted  her. 

There  were  polliwo^s  in  the  brook  by  the  roacLLlc. 

"  Let's  go  and  stone  'em,"  said  Moses. 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  Caleb  replied. 

"  I'll  give  them  Hail  Columbia,"  said  Moses,  not  having 
any  definite  idea  as  to  what  that  might  mean,  but  he  had 
heard  his  father  say  it,  and  it  meant  something,  —  just  the 
thing  to  let  My  at  the  pollivvogs.  He  filled  his  apron  with 
munitions  of  war  and  started  to  give  them  battle. 


White  Hair's  First  Battle.  13 

"O  Randa,"  said  Lir.cla,  in  alarm,  "he's  going  to  do 
it  !  He  mustn't,  must  he  ?  " 

'•No,  we  shan't  like  him  if  \\n.  does,"  said  the  queen. 

"I  don't  care  if  you  don't,"  was  the  reply. 

"While  he  is  doing  it  we'll  have  our  picnic,"  said  Randa. 
It  was  a  child's  wisdom,  but  it  brought  the  would-be-war 
rior  king  to  terms,  and  in  that  respect  was  just  as  efficient 
as  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  that  settled  the  difficulty  be 
tween  the  mothers  in  Israel.  Moses  did  not  care  to  forego 
the  pleasures  of  the  picnic,  and  so  the  polliwogs  remained 
undisturbed. 

Deborah  brought  out  gingerbread,  cakes,  strawberry 
jam,  and  cranberry  tarts,  and  they  had  a  royal  time. 

When  the  picnic  was  over  —  when  they  could  eat  no 
more  —  Moses  opened  his  store  and  was  ready  to  sell  his 
companions  any  thing  they  might  want. 

The  little  mothers  purchased  calico  and  bits  of  ribbon, 
paying  cash  down,  or  asking  the  merchant  to  charge  it, — 
as  other  mothers,  older  in  years,  have  sometimes  done, 
with  the  satisfying  reflection  that  they  are  in  possession 
cf  the  goods  and  that  somebody  or  other  will  settle  the 
bill.  The  farmer  looked  after  his  flocks  and  herds,  and 
gave  Randa  a  pasture  full  of  cattle,  that  she  might  call 
them  her  own.  It  was  a  prc-millenial  state,  but  it  could 
not  last  forever.  Bell  helped  herself  to  a  dress  from 
Moses'  shelves,  for  one  of  her  babies,  without  paying  for 
it  or  asking  to  have  it  charged,  and  was  departing,  when 
the  mere;  art,  assuming  the  part  of  a  policeman,  arrested 
her,  and  rudely  snatched  the  goods  away,  whereupon  the 
farmer,  doing  as  many  an  old  knight  was  wont  to  do  in 
chivalric  clays,  flew  to  the  young  lady's  rescue,  and  said, 
"  You  let  her  alone."  The  merchant  obeyed,  but  lifting 
l.is  dumpy  legs  and  stumpy  feet,  encased  in  red  stockings 


14  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

and  reel  morocco  slippers,  trampled  upon  the  farmer's 
flocks  and  herds.  One  kick  from  little  White  Hair,  and 
Moses'  store,  with  all  its  goods,  was  in  the  air,  and  then 
they  grappled.  There  was  pushing,  and  then  pulling  at  each 
other's  hair. 

"Oh,  don't,"  said  Linda,  laying  a  soft  hand  upon  Caleb's 
shoulder.  "  Stop  ! "  said  Rancla  to  Moses.  But  the  war 
had  begun.  History  was  repeating  itself.  So  nations  have 
grappled  and  arbiters  have  failed.  The  time  had  gone  by  for 
diplomacy.  The  tears  came  into  Randa's  eyes,  while  Linda 
stood  pale  and  trembling,  but  Bell  was  not  frightened. 
She  wished  that  they  wouldn't  pull  each  other's  hair,  but 
wondered  which  could  stand  it  the  longest. 

The  din  of  the  conflict  reached  the  ears  of  the  mothers  in 
the  parlor. 

"  Come  here,  you  little  brat ! "  It  was  Moses'  mother 
calling  him,  but  having  a  battle  in  hand,  he  paid  no  attention 
to  the  summons,  and  his  mother  came  to  him. 

"  Don't  you  know  better  than  to  fight?  I'll  give  you  a  good 
spanking,"  and  she  applied  her  hand  vigorously  to  that  part 
of  the  body  which  most  children  discover  quite  early  in  life 
was  made  to  be  spanked.  The  application  was  powerful 
enough  to  produce  screeches  and  yells  from  the  inflammable 
little  fellow,  on  fire  without  and  within,  who  rubbed  his  eyes 
with  his  fists,  and  down  whose  hot  cheeks  the  tears  rolled  in 
great  drops  to  the  ground. 

"  I'll  kill  you,"  said  Moses,  striking  out  blindly  with  his 
fists  and  hitting  his  mother  on  the  nose. 

"Shut  yer  yop  this  minute,"  said  the  mother,  shaking 
him,  till,  from  holding  his  breath,  he  was  black  and  blue  in 
the  face.  She  was  frightened  and  blew  in  his  mouth  and 
cried,  "  Stop,  darling  !  Oh,  don't,  dear — there — there — there, 
don't,  dear  —  dear  —  there  —  there  —  there,  mother  didn't 


White  Hair's  First  Battle.  15 

mean  to."  The  child,  gasping  and  catching  his  breath, 
found  voice  again  and  screamed  louder  than  ever,  till  the 
hens  in  the  barn-yard  stopped  their  crooning  and  the  doves 
on  their  perch  looked  here  and  there,  arching  their  necks  to 
see  what  was  going  on,  —  for  such  a  screaming  never  before 
had  been  heard  about  the  premises. 

When  the  mother  saw  that  her  boy  was  in  no  danger  of 
immediate  strangulation,  she  changed  her  tactics  once  more, 
and  cried  "  Stop  this  moment,  or  I'll  call  the  Boogers." 
This  not  having  the  desired  effect,  the  threat  was  put  in  exe 
cution  by  her  crying  "Booger — Booger  —  Booger,  come  and 
catch  him  !  Old  man  that  eats  little  boys,  come  and  get 
him  ! " 

Moses,  thinking  that  old  Blue  Beard,  who  ate  little  boys 
for  his  breakfast,  would  soon  be  after  him,  kicked  and  strug 
gled  till  he  freed  himself  from  the  maternal  arms,  and  made 
his  way  up  the  street  as  fast  as  his  little  legs  could  carry  him, 
followed  by  his  mother. 

"  Come  here,  my  child."  It  was  a  calm,  s\veet  voice  that 
Caleb  heard  speaking  to  him  from  the  open  door.  With  a 
flushed  face,  with  dirt  in  his  eyes,  he  walked  slowly  up  the 
path.  It  was  a  firm  but  gentle  hand  that  rested  on  his  brow, 
that  smoothed  his  tangled  hair  and  bathed  his  burning 
cheeks  with  cooling  water,  and  that  led  him  up  stairs  to  his 
chamber. 

While  she  was  doing  it  Caleb  was  thinking  of  the  battle. 
Oh,  if  she  hadn't  come  just  as  she  did,  —  if  she  had  only 
waited  a  minute  or  two  longer,  he  would  have  given  it  to 
Moses.  If  he  could  have  taken  out  another  handful 
of  hair,  if  he  could  have  given  his  nose  one  more  punch, 
he  would  have  won  the  victory,  and  been  Moses'  master 
forever.  Gentle  and  kind  were  the  words  of  the  mother. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  my  child,  that  you  should  strike  your 
playmate." 


,6  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"He  didn't  play  fair,"  said  Caleb,  with  the  spirit  of  bat 
ti'e  still  flashing  in  his  eyes. 

"  B.it  do  you  think  it  was  the  way  to  make  him  play  fai 
to  pull  his  hair  and  strike  him  in  the  face  ?  " 

"Well,  he  pushed  Bell,  and  I  wri'n't  going  to  stand  it." 

"  Because  Moses  did  rot  treat  Bell  fairly  you  ought  no! 
to  have  struck  him.  Do  you  tuink  that  was  the  best  way? ' 

"But  he  tore  my  farm  to  pieces." 

"  Didn't  you  kick  over  his  store?  I  am  sory  that  you 
did  so.  Don't  you  think  that  you  did  wrong?" 

Til-'  fire  was  still  smouldering  within.  Me  was  a  little 
sorry,  but  wished  all  the  while  that  he  could  have  given 
Moses'  hair  one  more  pull. 

The  sun  was  setting  and  it  was  time  for  him  to  go  to 
bed.  He  kneeled  reluctantly  by  his  mother's  side  to  say  his 
prayer,  closed  his  eyes,  but  opened  them  again  and  said, 
"  I  guess  I  won't  say  'Now  I  lay  me,'  to-night:  I'll  say'  Old 
Mother  Hubbarcl."' 

"  Do  you  think  that  you  would  feel  any  better  to  say 
that  instead  of  asking  the  good  Lord  to  watch  over  you 
while  you  are  asleep  ?  You  may  say  it  if  you  think  it 
best." 

Caleb  could  not  look  v.p  i:ro  the  loving  eyes.  He  waited 
f)r  his  mother  to  say  something  else,  but  she  remained 
silent.  * 

"  Moses  hadn't  nnv  right  to  push  her,"  he  said. 
"Shall  I   tell  you  a  story?"  the  mother  asked. 
"I  don't  want  to  hear  any,"  said  Caleb,  hanging  hi.-;  head 
and  picking  his   finger-nails,  but  was  sorry  the  next  moment 
that    he    had    declined   the  offjr,  for  he  liked  stories.      He 
added  in  a  faint  voice,  "you  may  if  you  war.t  to."      He  had 
heard  it  m.my  times,  but  it  was  ever  new  as  his  mo'.her  told 
it,  —  that  story  of  the  Blessed  One  born  in  a  stable,  and  whilo 


White  Hairs  First  Battle.  17 

he  listened  to  it,  his  anger  cooled,  and  he  wished  that  he 
had  not  fought  with  Moses.  With  many  a  sob,  he  kneeled 
by  his  mother's  side  and  lisped  his  prayer,  and  then  crept 
into  bed. 

The  sounds  of  the  day  were  growing  fainter,  but  he  could 
still  hear  the  robin  calling  to  him, — reproachfully  now, — 
"White  Hair  !  White  Hair  ! "  The  geese  were  having  a  gabble 
about  him  in  the  yard.  He  could  hear  the  gander  saying 
"He  is  a  bad  boy,"  and  all  his  wives  were  repeating  it.  He 
thought  of  his  friend  the  cock,  who  had  shouted,  "  Hurrah  for 
you,  my  boy  ! "  so  lustily,  but  h>;  was  silent  now;  he  had  crept 
away  to  his  perch  and  was  hiding  his  head  beneath  his  wing, 
as  if  ashamed  of  him,  for  fighting  with  Moses.  He  could 
hear  the  old  clock  in  the  kitchen  ticking  slowly  and  steadily, 
taking  up  what  the  geese  had  said,  "Bad-boy  —  bad-boy 
—  bad-boy." 

S\veet  and  low  is  his  mother's  voice  singing  a  good-night 
hymn  ;  angelic  music  fills  the  room. 

Are  there  angels  hovering  near?  Can  he  not  hear  the 
rustling  of  their  wings  amid  the  elms?  How  melodious  their 
voices  mingling  with  the  murmuring  of  the  water  by  the 
mill !  One  bright  seraph  bends  above  him,  lays  her  heaven 
ly  hand  upon  his  brow,  presses  her  lips  to  his,  and  while  she 
lingers  with  loving  look,  the  vision  fades  away. 
2 


CHAPTER   III. 

SUNDAY    IN    MILLBROOK. 

LITTLE  White  Hair  was  glad  that  Sunday  came  only 
once  a  week,  for  when  the  day  came  round  there  was 
a  painful  stillness,  not  only  about  the  house,  but  everywhere 
else.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  keeping  track  of  the  day,  for 
he  always  had  baked  beans  and  brown  bread  for  breakfast. 
Nor  was  he  in  doubt  about  Monday,  for  long  before  sunrise 
Deborah  was  scrubbing  away  at  the  washtub.  He  could  not 
make  out  any  particular  connection  between  Sunday  and 
baked  beans,  but  in  that  his  father  often  said  to  him,  when 
his  face  and  hands  were  dirty  and  needed  washing,  that 
cleanliness  was  next  to  godliness,  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  that  was  the  reason  why  Monday  was  next  to  Sunday. 

He  could  not  quite  understand  why  Deborah  and  every 
body  else  laid  abed  an  hour  cr  two  later  on  Sunday  than 
on  other  days  of  the  week. 

"  It  is  a  day  of  rest,"  said  his  mother. 

"I  don't  want  to  rest ;  I  ain't  tired,"  said  Caleb,  capering 
round  the  room,  climbing  upon  the  sofa,  moving  hi.;  arms  as 
if  they  were  wings,  and  giving  a  lusty  crow  in  answer  to  the 
rooster,  who,  an  hour  before  sunrise,  was  calling  out  to  him, 
"Hurrah  for  you,  my  boy  !  " 

"  You  mustn't  play  rooster  on  Sunday,"  said  Deborah. 
He  liked  her,  for  she  was  kind-hearted,  and  had  a  round, 

18 


Stmday  in  Millbrook.     .  19 

plump,  honest  face.  She  was  only  sixteen  years  old,  but  she 
was  strong  and  hearty,  and  ready  to  romp  with  him  now  and 
then. 

"Why  can't  I  play  rooster,  I  should  like  to  know?"  he 
asked,  not  having  fully  comprehended  the  question  of  moral 
obligation. 

"  Because  it's  Sunday,"  said  Deborah.  He  was  not  much 
enlightened  by  this  answer.  He  went  out  and  stood  upon 
the  piazza,  to  see  what  was  going  on,  but  things  were  nearly 
as  quiet  out  of  doors  as  within.  There  were  no  teams  roll 
ing  along  the  street ;  the  blacksmith's  hammer  was  not 
ringing  on  the  anvil ;  Mr.  Meek's  store  was  closed,  and  he 
could  not  buy  candy.  The  water  that  on  other  days  passed 
out  from  the  mill  race  white  with  foam,  when  the  miller  was 
grinding  a  grist,  made  only  a  faint  murmuring  as  it  fell  over 
the  dam  upon  the  rocks.  A  bird  that  sat  on  the  ridge  pole 
of  the  shed  kept  crying  "pe-we  —  pc-we,"  as  if  it  had 
lost  a  friend,  and  was  saying,  pity-me  —  pity-me.  It  was  a 
lonesome  cry,  and  so  was  that  of  a  lamb  that  had  lost  its 
mother,  and  was  bleating  in  the  pasture,  running  here  and 
there,  not  knowing  which  way  to  go. 

"What  makes  the  lammie  cry  so?"  Caleb  asked  of  Jona 
than  Jolly,  the  young  man  who  worked  for  his  father. 

"  They  are  his  lamentations,  because  he  can't  find  his 
mamma,"  said  Jonathan,  with  a  smile. 

Caleb  thought  it  rather  a  funny  answer,  but  Jonathan  was 
a  queer  fellow. 

"  Come,  Caleb,  and  have  your  face  washed  for  meeting," 
said  Deborah.  He  went  reluctantly,  for  though  he  wished 
to  go  to  meeting,  he  did  not  like  to  have  his  nose  rubbed  up 
the  wrong  way,  nor  did  he  fancy  having  his  eyes  and  ears 
filled  with  soap-suds,  as  they  sometimes  were,  when  Deborah 
was  in  a  hurry.  She  was  smart  about  the  house,  and  had  all 


20  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  breakfast  things  washed  and  the  kitchen  swept  long 
before  the  ringing  of  the  first  bell.  It  was  a  relief  to  hear 
the  bell  breaking  the  stillness  of  the  morning.  "  Come  — 
come  —  come,"  it  said,  and  the  farmers  out  upon  the 
hills  hearing  it,  brushed  their  boots,  put  on  their  best  clothes, 
harnessed  their  horses,  and  came  in  light  buggies,  covered 
carriages,  and  wagons,  bringing  their  wives  and  children. 
The  young  men  came  early  and  stood  around  the  door  while 
the  bell  was  tolling,  to  feast  their  eyes  upon  the  sweet  faces 
of  the  young  ladies  as  they  stepped  from  the  wagons.  So 
fair  their  cheeks,  so  pretty  their  ankles,  it  is  not  strange  that 
the  thoughts  of  the  young  gentlemen  were  turned  quite  as 
often  during  the  week  to  the  blushing  faces  and  pretty  feet 
of  the  girls,  as  to  the  heads  of  Rev.  Mr.  Canticle's  dis 
course. 

Sweet  the  tones  of  the  tolling  bell  to  White  Hair  as  he 
walked  with  his  father  and  mother  along  the  street  beneath 
the  overspreading  elms.  So  high  the  spire  of  the  meeting 
house  that  he  thought  of  the  bell  as  being  almost  up  to  the  sky. 
It  was  delightful  to  stand  in  the  porch  and  see  the  sexton 
tugging  at  the  rope,  to  hear  the  pealing  notes,  and  to  think 
of  them  as  floating  over  the  green  fields  and  echoing  upon 
the  hills.  But  the  organ  !  There  was  nothing  like  it.  How 
inspiring  !  Now  it  was  only  a  flute,  now  a  clarionet,  as  if 
played  by  some  one  far  away.  Now  it  was  a  whole  band 
of  music  near  at  hand.  It  seemed  at  times  as  if  he  could 
hear  the  water  murmuring  by  the  mill,  the  sighing  of  the 
pines  in  the  woods,  the  wailing  of  the  night  winds  in  the 
elms,  and  the  rolling  of  distant  thunder.  Mr.  Clef,  who 
played  it,  did  all  this.  Though  Caleb  could  only  see  the 
back  of  his  head,  he  gazed  upon  him  with  admiration  and 
awe. 

There  were  twenty  or  more  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the 


Sunday  in  Millbrook.  21 

singers'  seats.  Miss  Gilliflower  sang  the  solos.  She  had  a  pleas 
ant  face,  bright  eyes,  and  cherry  lips,  and  wore  a  blue  bon 
net  with  a  white  plume,  that  nodded  with  every  movement 
of  her  head.  She  sang  so  sweetly,  skipped  so  lightly  from 
note  to  note,  now  soaring  aloft  like  a  lark  rising  toward 
heaven,  now  floating  along  as  if  on  quivering  wings  through 
the  upper  sky,  and  now  came  so  softly  and  gently  earthward, 
that  Caleb  admired  her  almost  if  not  quite  as  much  as  he 
did  Mr.  Clef. 

Reverend  Mr.  Canticle  was  an  old  man  with  white,  silvery 
hair,  deep-set  eyes,  heavy  brows,  and  a  weak  voice,  that 
was  growing  fainter  year  by  year,  as  if  he  was  getting  farther 
away  from  the  things  around  him. 

It  was  rather  tiresome  to  Caleb  to  sit  up  straight,  with  his 
hands  folded,  and  he  concluded  to  look  around  and  see 
if  Linda  and  Bell  were  there. 

"  You  must  sit  still  and  look  at  the  minister,  and  listen  to 
what  he  is  saying,"  said  his  father. 

He  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Canticle,  without  winking,  but  there 
were  so  many  long  words  in  the  sermon,  the  man  had  so 
much  to  say  on  firstly  and  a  lot  more  on  secondly,  thirdly 
and  fourthly,  that  he  gave  it  up  as  a  sorry  job.  He  wished 
that  Mr.  Canticle  would  hold  up,  and  give  Miss  Gilliflower  and 
the  choir  another  chance.  He  was  tired  of  sitting  still,  and 
concluded  to  rest  himself  by  standing  on  the  cricket  to  see 
what  Moses  was  up  to,  but  the  cricket  suddenly  went  over 
upon  its  side  and  he  came  down  with  a  bump  to  the  floor, 
making  a  great  racket.  Mr.  Canticle  stopped  his  talking  and 
looked  down  to  see  what  had  happened,  for  he  had  just  said 
that  the  feet  of  the  wicked  stand  on  slippery  places.  The 
noise  woke  up  Mr.  Skiver,  the  currier,  who  worked  hard  all 
the  week  among  his  tan  pits,  and  who  found  it  no  easy  mat 
ter  to  keep  awake  on  Sunday,  but  was  usually  asleep  before 


22  Caleb  Krinkk. 

Mr.  Canticle  had  reached  secondly.  Mr.  Skiver  thought  that 
Mr.  Canticle  had  said  Amen,  and  jumped  up,  put  on  his  hat, 
and  started  for  the  door,  but  sat  down  again,  very  red  in  the 
face.  Caleb's  tumble  and  Mr.  Skiver's  confusion  made  some 
of  the  people  smile.  Moses  laughed  aloud  and  Caleb  saw 
Mrs.  Meek,  who  had  a  great  flaming  red  rose  in  her  bon 
net,  stuff  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth  to  keep  from 
laughing.  He  curled  down  beside  his  mother  and  picked 
his  finger-nails  awhile,  till,  weary  with  doing  nothing,  con 
cluded  to  build  a  house  with  the  hymn  books,  and  said  over 
to  himself,  — 

"  This  is  the  house  that  Jack  built.  This  is  the  malt  that 
lay  in  the  house  that  Jack  built." 

He  was  going  on  finely  and  had  got  up  10  the  "  priest  all 
shaven  and  shorn,"  when  his  father  took  down  the  edifice 
and  pinched  his  ear  to  manifest  his  displeasure  at  his  con 
duct. 

"  Keep  still,  Caleb  ;  he  will  be  through  pretty  soon,"  whisr 
pered  his  father, 

"  You  said  so  ever  so  long  ago,  and  he  ain't  any  nearer 
now  than  he  was  then,"  said  Caleb,  heartily  tired  with  Mr. 
Canticle. 

It  was  a  great  relief  when  Mr.  Canticle  said  Amen.  And 
it  was  an  agreeable  change  for  Caleb  to  go  into  the  Sunday- 
school  with  a  flock  of  boys  and  girls.  '. 

Miss  Hyssop  was  teacher  of  the  class  to  which  he  belonged. 
She  was  tall  and  thin,  and  there  were  wrinkles  in  her  face. 
•She  had  sharp  eyes  and  long  bony  fingers.  Caleb  had 
learned  a  verse  commencing,  — 

"  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night." 

But  he  made  a  mess  of  it  when  he  attempted  to  jecite  it, 
getting  it  mixed  up  with 

"  This  is  the  maiden  all  forlorn,  that  milked  the  cow  with 


Sunday  in  Millbrook.  23 

crumpled  horn,"  and  all  the  rest  of  the  delightful  ditty  that 
had  been  running  through  his  head. 

Moses  did  not  go  into  the  Sunday-school,  but  went  skip 
ping  and  hopping  down  the  street,  throwing  stones  at  the 
birds ;  Linda  and  Bell  and  Randa  were  there,  however,  and 
said  their  ver'ses  so  nicely  that  Miss  Hyssop  gave  each  a  little 
card,  with  a  picture  of  Daniel  in  the  lion's  den,  wearing  a 
red  dressing-gown,  a  blue  sash,  and  yellow  slippers.  She 
looked  hard  at  Caleb  when  he  started  off  with 

"This  is  the  maiden  all  forlorn."  She  had  no  card  for 
him,  but  said,  — 

"  Little  boys  that  can't  stop  thinking  about  the  house  that 
Jack  built  on  Sunday,  mustn't  expect  to  have  any  pictures 
given  them." 

"Did  he  build  it  on  Sunday?"  Caleb  asked,  interested  to 
know,  for  his  father  had  stopped  him  from  building  his  house 
and  he-would  like  to  know  why  he  couldn't  do  as  Jack  did. 

"  He  wasn't  so  wicked  as  that ;  you  mustn't  talk  about 
Jack  to-day,"  said  Miss  Hyssop,  looking  harder  than  ever  at 
him,  —  so  hard  that  it  seemed  as  if  every  wrinkle  in  her 
face,  as  well  as  her  lips,  had  said  it.  It  was  a  look  that 
chilled  him.  He  wished  that  he  was  in  the  next  pew,  where 
Miss  Gilliflower  was  telling  a  flock  of  little  ones,  who  had 
their  heads  together,  listening  with  all  their  ears,  about  a  boy, 
who  had  a  cloak  of  ever  so  many  colors,  who  was  sold  to  be 
a  slave  in  Egypt,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  wonderful  story. 
Miss  Hyssop  had  no  story  to  tell,  nor  would  she  allow  the 
lambs  of  her  flock  to  get  their  heads  together,  but  made  them 
all  sit  up  straight,  as  if  they  had  stiff  backs.  She  was  a  great 
deal  older  than  Miss  Gilliflower,  and  was  so  thin  and  wrinkled, 
and  seemed  to  be  so  dried  up  and  withered,  that  Caleb  asso 
ciated  her  with  the  last  year's  mullein  stalks  in  his  father's 
pasture,  that  had  flowered  and  gone  to  seed  and  had  been 


24  Caleb  Krinklc. 

drying  in  the  wind  for  a  twelve-month.  Caleb  speculated 
whether  or  not  "  the  maiden  all  forlorn,  who  married  the 
man  all  tattered  and  torn,"  was  like  Miss  Hyssop. 

After  school  was  over  the  grown-up  people  went  out  and 
stood  beneath  the  elms  and  ate  gingerbread  and  doughnuts, 
and  talked  about  the  weather,  the  crops,  and  what  was  going 
on  in  the  world. 

Caleb,  Linda,  Miranda,  and  Bell  went  into  the  graveyard 
behind  the  meeting-house,  sat  down  on  the  green  grass  and 
ate  the  seed  cakes  and  cookies  they  had  brought.  Caleb 
did  not  like  to  be  in  such  a  solemn  place  with  so  many  dead 
folks  under  the  ground.  Randa  said  they  were  not  there, 
but  up  in  the  sky,  and  she  thought  it  a  delightful  place,  the 
grass  was  so  green  and  the  flowers  so  beautiful.  Some  of 
the  stones  around  them  were  old  and  mossy,  and  the  ar 
tists  of  former  days  had  attempted  to  symbolize  Time  and 
Death  by  ghastly  figures  of  skulls  and  skeletons,  and  Im 
mortality  by  little  cherubs  with  chubby  cheeks. 

"What  ugly  looking  folks  they  must  have  been  !  "  said 
Bell,  who  thought  the  skeletons  were  the  likenesses  of  the  old 
settlers. 

"Those  others  are  the  pictures  of  the  dear  little  babies 
that  are  living  up  in  the  sky,  and  if  we  are  good  we  shall  go 
there  when  we  die,"  said  Randa,  pointing  to  the  cherubs. 

One  grassy  mound  was  enclosed  by  a  picket  fence,  and 
within  the  enclosure  there  was  a  rose  bush  in  bloom. 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  get  them  !  "  said  Bell,  reaching 
her  hand  through  the  fence. 

"  I  can  get  them,"  said  Caleb,  feeling  stout  and  strong,  and 
ready  to  do  something  chivalrous  for  his  three  friends ;  but 
the  pickets  hurt  his  fingers,  and  it  was  not  till  his  companions 
gave  his  legs  a  lift  that  he  was  able  to  get  inside  of  the  en 
closure.  He  plucked  the  roses  and  passed  them  through 


Sunday  in  Millbrook.  25 

the  fence,  getting  a  thorn  in  his  finger,  but  bravely  resolved 
not  to  mind  it. 

While  the  old  men  were  talking  beneath  the  elms,  and 
while  Caleb  was  giving  pleasure  to  his  three  friends,  Miss 
Hyssop  and  her  friend,  Mrs.  Gabberly,  were  talking  of  the 
sermon  in  another  part  of  the  yard. 

"  It  was  an  excellent  discourse,"  said  Miss  Hyssop. 

"  Yes,  it  was.  I  don't  know  when  I've  heard  Father  Can 
ticle  preach  a  better  one.  Yet  although  it  was  so  powerful, 
I  couldn't  help  laughing  when  Mrs.  Krinkle's  young  'n  made 
such  a  racket,  just  after  that  solemn  remark  that  Mr.  Canticle 
made.  Did  you  ever  see  a  child  act  so  ?  Why,  he  carries 
on  like  all  possessed,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  training  he  gets  at  home.  Would 
you  believe  it?  he  actually  undertook  to  say,  'This  is  the 
house  that  Jack  built,'  in  the  Sunday-school.  I  should  think 
that  Mrs.  Krinkle  would  be  ashamed  of  herself.  It  makes 
me  very  sad  to  think  how  some  folks  bring  up  their  children. 
Parental  government  seems  to  me  to  be  dying  out.  I  don't 
know  what  we  shall  come  to,"  said  Miss  Hyssop. 

"  Nor  I  neither.  But,  by  the  way,  did  you  see  Mrs. 
Meek's  new  bonnet?  It  is  made  of  nice  stuff  enough,  but 
it  is  a  pity  to  have  such  a  rich  piece  of  silk  and  such  costly 
ribbons  podged  up  in  that  way.  I  believe  I  never  in  all  my 
born  days  saw  a  woman  that  had  so  little  taste  as  she  has. 
She  is  a  real  dowdy.  I  should  like  to  know  how  she  ever 
came  to  marry  Mr.  Meek,  when  he  is  fifteen  years,  at  least, 
younger  than  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

The  bell  was  calling  them  to  the  afternoon  service,  and 
they  strolled  toward  the  church.  Caleb  and  his  companions 
meanwhile  were  in  trouble.  Caleb  had  filled  their  hands 
with  roses,  but  now  came  the  question  —  how  was  he  to  get 
out  of  the  enclosure?  The  philosophy  of  his  friends  had 


* 

:* 


26  Caleb  Krinkle. 

looked  no  farther  than  how  to  get  him  in.  He  tried  to  get 
over  the  fence,  but  in  vain.  Gradually  the  conviction  came 
to  him  that  he  was  in  jail. 

He  was  a  prisoner  and  there  was  a  thorn  in  his  finger  be 
sides  ;  together  the  burdens  were  too  heavy  to  be  borne. 
He  sat  down  upon  the  grass  and  began  to  cry,  while  Linda 
and  Bell  and  Miranda  sucked  their  thumbs,  not  knowing 
what  else  to  do. 

"O  you  naughty  children,"  said  Miss  Hyssop,  "to  be 
out  here  in  the  grave-yard  playing  on  Sunday,  with  so  many 
dead  folks  around  you  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave,  —  spend 
ing  your  time  in  picking  flowers  !  You  ought  to  be  learning 
the  verses  on  the  grave-stones.  Here  is  one  from  the  primer, 

"  '  Xerxes  the  great  did  die, 
And  so  must  you  and  I.' 

"  How  very  solemn  to  think  that  perhaps  before  another 
Sunday  you  may  be  brought  here,  just  as  all  these  dead 
folks  have  been." 

Her  words  were  so  frightful,  her  voice  so  sepulchral, 
that  they  felt  the  cold  shivers  run  over  them. 

"  If  you  were  my  boy,  I  would  let  you  be  in  jail  awhile, 
to  punish  you  for  playing  on  Sunday,"  she  said  to  Caleb. 

Notwithstanding  her  doleful  words,  Miss  Hyssop  had 
no  intention  of  leaving  him  there.  She  lifted  him  out, 
but  improved  the  opportunity  to  make  him  remember  his 
naughty  ways,  by  griping  him  with  her  bony  fingers  so 
that  he  felt  it  like  a  manacle  upon  his  arm  during  the  re 
mainder  of  the  day. 

Once  more  at  liberty,  he  scampered  away,  followed  by 
Bell,  Linda  and  Miranda. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  Caleb,  however,  during  the  after 
noon,  to  see  the  roses  in  their  hands,  though  Bell  in  a 


Stinday  in  Millbrook.  27 

very  short  time  picked  hers  to  pieces  and  ate  the  leaves. 
Randa  gave  hers  to  some  girls  in  the  next  pew,  but  Linda 
carried  hers  home  and  put  them  in  a  tumbler  of  water,  and 
placed  them  on  the  supper-table. 

The  afternoon  was  as  tedious  to  Caleb  as  the  forenoon 
had  been.  He  watched  the  flies  buzzing  about  and  tried 
to  catch  them,  but  they  were  altogether  too  quick  for 
him. 

Good  old  grandmother  Gregory,  who  was  everybody's 
grandmother,  sat  in  the  next  pew;  her  face  was  very 
much  wrinkled,  but  Caleb  liked  her,  for  all  that,  for  she 
gave  him  a  peppermint  drop,  and  nodded  to  him,  as  if  to 
say,  "  How  do  you  do,  little  White  Hair?"  Her  eyes 
were  getting  dim,  and  she  could  not  see  the  lines  in  the 
hymn  book  without  putting  on  her  old-fashioned  round- 
bowed  spectacles,  but  when  the  singing  was  over  she  took 
them  off  and  put  them  on  a  little  shelf  at  the  end  of  the 
pew.  As  Caleb  had  nothing  else  to  do,  he  put  on  the 
spectacles  and  looked  at  the  congregation,  setting  all 
the  boys  and  girls  to  giggling,  and  bringing  smiles  to  the 
faces  of  some  of  the  grown  up  people.  Grandmother 
Gregory  took  them  away  from  him  with  a  gentle  hand  and 
a  smile  in  every  wrinkle. on  her  face,  and  whispered,  "  You 
are  a  little  rogue  ; "  but  Miss  Hyssop  looked  sternly  at 
him.  His  mother,  instead  of  correcting  him,  said  in  a  low 
whisper,  "  Caleb,  I  am  ashamed  of  you."  He  thought, 
however,  that  there  was  a  smile  lurking  in  the  corners  of 
her  eyes,  though  she  tried  to  be  very  sober. 

He  laid  his  head  in  her  lap  and  counted  the  posts  that 
supported  the  gallery,  gazed  at  the  golden  star  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  ceiling,  and  watched  a  big  spider  that  was  spin 
ning  his  web  in  a  corner.  He  looked  till  his  eyes  ached 
and  then  dropped  off  to  sleep. 


28  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

What  a  long  afternoon  it  was !  When  Caleb  awoke, 
Mr.  Canticle  was  talking  on  thirteenth!}-.  Then  came 
"remarks,"  "practical  observations,"  "inferences,"  then 
"conclusion.''  When  he  had  finished  all  these,  Caleb 
expected  Amen,  but  Mr.  Canticle  said,  "I  will  but  add," 
which  lasted  several  minutes,  and  then  "one  word  more," 
which  amounted  to  about  a  thousand,  according  to  Caleb's 
calculation ;  then  "  lastly,"  which  wasn't  lastly  by  a  great 
deal ;  for  after  awhile  he  said,  "  I  will  weary  your  patience 
no  longer,"  but  went  on  so  long  that  Caleb  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Mr.  Canticle  was  a  good  deal  like  the 
wind-mill  that  Jonathan  Jolly  had  whittled  out  for  him, 
and  which  kept  on  the  go  as  long  as  the  wind  lasted. 
But  the  wind  died  away  at  last,  and  when  Mr.  Canticle 
said,  "  Let  us  pray,"  those  who  had  been  sleeping  opened 
their  eyes,  and  all  hands  stood  up  and  yawned  and 
stretched  their  legs,  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

When  meeting  was  over,  the  farmers'  boys  clapped  on 
their  hats,  rushed  out  of  doors,  unhitched  their  horses, 
helped  their  mothers  and  sisters  into  the  wagons,  and  had 
lively  trots  down  the  broad  street,  trying  the  speed  and 
bottom  of  their  horses. 

Caleb  went  home  as  hungry  as  a  bear,  ready  to  devour 
all  there  was  on  the  table.  He  thought  that  Deborah  was 
a  long  time  in  getting  supper,  but  when  it  was  ready  he 
made  up  for  lost  time,  and  ate  a  plateful  of  beans,  a  big 
potato  with  butter  on  it,  a  slice  of  cold  ham,  and  a  piece  of 
pie. 

When  supper  was  over,  he  looked  round  to  find  some 
thing  to  do.  He  could  not  build  cob-houses  in  the  gran 
ary,  or  shovel  dirt  into  his  little  wheelbarrow,  as  on  other 
days.  What  should  he  do?  The  sweet  tones  of  the  organ 
were  still  sounding  in  his  ears.  He  would  make  believe 


Sunday  in  Millbrook.  29 

that  he  was  Miss  Gilliflower  and  that  he  was  up  in  the 
singers'  seats.  He  placed  a  chair  by  the  window,  climbed 
into  it,  held  a  singing-book  in  his  hand,  gave  out  the 
hymn  as  Mr.  Canticle  had  given  it,  with  a  drawling  voice, 
then  sang  as  loud  as  he  could,  with  the  hens,  geese  and  tur 
keys  for  a  congregation.  When  he  had  sung  himself  out, 
he  sat  on  the  piazza  and  watched  the  cloud  of  midges  in  the 
air,  till  his  father  told  him  he  must  go  in  and  learn  the  cate 
chism.  What  the  catechism  was  he  had  not  the  remotest 
conception,  but  he  started  off  with  spirit  and  tried  to  say  it 
after  his  father.  What  man's  chief  end  was  he  had  no 
idea,  and  non-conformity  and  inability  were  such  long 
words  and  meant  nothing,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  that  he 
soon  became  discouraged. 

"  Ain't  there  a  kittenchism ?  I  guess  I  could  learn  that,'' 
he  said. 

He  concluded  that  he  had  made  a  blunder,  for  Deborah 
and  Jonathan  and  his  father  and  mother  laughed. 

Much  better  than  the  catechism  was  the  story  his  moth 
er  told  of  the  little  boy  who  killed  a  big  giant  with  a  sling 
and  stone.  He  said  over  once  more  the  verse  he  had  tried 
to  say  in  the  Sunday  school,  and  accomplished  it  without 
getting  it  mixed  up  with  the  house  that  Jack  built.  Then 
his  mother  told  him  the  story  in  prose.  "  It  was  the 
birth-night  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  I  want  you  to  be 
one  of  his  lambs,"  said  his  mother. 

"  And  have  a  little  tail  ? "  Caleb  asked,  not  quite  under 
standing  the  matter.  Deborah  laughed  heartily,  as  did 
his  father,  and  he  noticed  that  his  mother  smiled. 

It  being  Sunday  evening,  White  Hair  had  on  his  go-to- 
meeting  clothes;  though  that  did  not  deter  him  from  going 
into  th2  barn-yard  to  see  Deborah  milk  the  cows. 

"  You'd  better  keep  away,  White  Hair ;  the  cows  may 
hook  you." 


30  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  I  ain't  afraid  of  them,"  White  Hair  replied,  picking  up 
a  stick  and  flourishing  it. 

"  Don't  you  frighten  'em,  neither,"  said  Deborah. 

There  was  one  honest  old  cow  with  wrinkles  on  her 
horns  that  stood  still  and  allowed  White  Hair  to  pat  her 
sides.  He  might  even  pull  her  tail  and  she  would  not 
mind  it,  but  the  skittish  young  heifer  which  Deborah  was 
milking  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  him,  and  finally  jumped  quickly 
away,  kicking  her  off  the  stool,  overturning  the  pail  and 
spilling  the  milk. 

"There  !  now,  see  what  you  have  done,"  she  said,  getting 
up  and  shaking  the  milk  from  her  bedrabbled  dress.  "  You 
careless  boy.  I've  a  good  mind  to  box  your  ears.  Go  into 
the  house  and  tell  your  mother  to  give  you  a  spanking." 

"  I  shan't  do  it,"  White  Hair  replied,  not  caring  to  invite 
punishment  of  that  sort. 

"  You're  always  into  some  mischief.  You're  a  gump," 
said  Deborah. 

"No,  I  ain't  a  gump,"  Caleb  replied,  indignantly  repell 
ing  the  accusation.  But  a  great  bull-frog  in  a  mud  puddle 
by  the  roadside  suddenly  took  up  what  Deborah  had  said, 
and  croaked  in  a  deep,  gram  voice,  "  You're  a  gump  !  you  re 
a  gump  !  you're  a  gump  /"  A  score  cf  frogs  concealed  in 
the  rushes  struck  in  at  or.ce  and  repeated  it,  which  made 
White  Hair  very  angry.  He  had  heard  them  croak  many 
times,  but  never  before  had  they  taunted  him  with  being  a 
gump. 

Caleb  left  the  yard  and  went  out  to  the  mud-pucldle 
with  his  stick,  to  give  the  blackguards  a  thrashing.  He 
discovered  one  big  fellow  with  great  goggle  eyes  sticking 
out  of  his  head,  and  with  long  shiny  legs,  sitting  on  a  log, 
who  winked  at  him  and  puffed  out  his  flabby  throat  as  if 
ready  to  split  with  laughter,  and  said,  "  You  re  a  guwj>  ' 
you're  a  gump  !  yoiirt  a  gump  /  " 


Sunday  in  Millbrook.  31 

The  fellow  was  the  leader  of  the  whole  crew,  for  no 
sooner  had  he  said  it  than  all  the  others,  great  and  small, 
repeated  it. 

"  I'll  give  it  to  ye,"  said  Caleb,  stepping  upon  the  slimy 
log  which  lay  half  embedded  in  the  mud.  "  I'll  give  it  to 
ye/'  he  repeated,  as  ha  edged  his  way  toward  the  frog, 
raising  his  stick. 

"There,  take  that!" 

He  brought  the  stick  clown  with  a  whack,  but  the  saucy 
chap,  tipping  him  a  wink,  gave  a  quick  leap,  and  went 
down  into  the  water  kcnhug ! 

While  White  Hair  was  looking  to  see  where  the  fellow 
had  gone,  his  feet  suddenly  slipped  and  he  went  clown 
upon  his  back  with  a  splash  into  the  soft  mud.  In  trying 
to  get  up,  he  tumbled  over  the  other  way  upon  his  face. 
There  was  mud  in  his  cars,  his  mouth,  his  nose,  his  eyes. 
He  struck  out  blindly  with  his  arms,  kicked  and  struggled 
and  floundered,  and  finally  reached  solid  ground.  He  was 
covered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot.  It  was  trickling 
down  his  back ;  he  could  feel  it  on  his  legs  and  in  his 
shoes.  It  was  in  his  hair,  on  his  hands,  ancl  all  over  his 
go-to-meeting  clothes. 

He  made  his  way  slowly  up  the  road.  It  was  torment 
ing  to  hear  all  the  saucy  crew  laughing  behind  him, 
"  You're  a  gump  .'  you're  a  gump  !  you  re  a  gump  /" 

Jonathan  Jolly  was  standing  beneath  the  old  elm  in 
front  of  the  house  when  he  came  up  and  told  his  gritfs, 
with  blubbering  lips. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  you  are  a  gump,  sure  enough/'  said  Jon 
athan,  who  joined  in  with  the  frogs  and  laughed  at  him. 
But  his  mother  and  Deborah  soon  had  him  in  the  wash- 
tub  and  gave  him  a  thorough  scrubbing.  Deborah  im 
proved  the  opportunity  to  pay  him  off  for  frightening  the 


2  2  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

heifer,  by  rubbing  up  his  nose  the  wrong  way.  He  had 
been  naughty  through  the  day,  and  went  to  bed  in  dis 
grace.  While  lying  there  he  could  hear  the  rascals  in  the 
puddle  having  a  hearty  laugh  over  his  misfortune,  croaking 
louder  than  ever,  "  You're  a  gump  !  you1  re  a  gump  !  you're  a 
gump!" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DAN    DISHAWAY. 

ON  Monday  morning  Caleb  was  at  play  in  the  door- 
yard,  none  the  worse  for  the  mishap  of  Sunday,  Deb 
orah  was  at  the  wash-tub  in  the  kitchen,  Jonathan  was  hoe 
ing  corn  in  the  field  near  the  barn,  and  Captain  Krinkle 
was  standing  beneath  the  old  elm  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  watch 
ing  Caleb  and  thinking  over  his  business.  There  came  the 

O  C* 

blast  of  a  trumpet  swelling  up  the  valley,  and  then  appeared 
an  old  horse,  blind  of  one  eye,  with  spavins  and  ring 
bones  on  his  legs,  and  so  thin  in  flesh  that  one  would 
have  no  difficulty  in  counting  the  animal's  ribs.  It  was  a  bay 
horse,  that  had  seen  many  years  of  hard  usage,  indicated  by 
the  dropping  of  the  under  lip  and  the  condition  of  its  teeth. 
The  horse  was  attached  to  a  tin  peddlers'  cart,  —  a  creaking 
vehicle  painted  red,  with  wooden  tubs,  pails,  mop-handles 
and  corn  brooms  on  the  top,  a  pile  of  pelts  and  bags 
filled  with  rags  on  the  rack  behind,  and  old  brass  kettles 
attached  to  the  axles  and  dangling  beneath. 

Upon  the  seat,  blowing  the  trumpet,  was  a  tall,  lantern, 
jawed,  blue-eyed  young  man,  with  a  long  nose,  big  ears, 
wide  mouth  and  good-natured  countenance,  —  Dan  Dish- 
away. 

"  Toot  —  toot  —  toot !  "  resounded  up  and  down  the  val- 
3  33 


34  Caleb  Krinkle. 

ley.     The  horse  turned  of  his  own  accord  from  the  road 
into  the  door-yard,  and  the  young  man   began   a  song  to 
the  air  of  the  "  Fine  Old  Irish  Gentleman." 
Thus  it  ran,  — 

"  Dm  Dishaway  is  coming  and  they  say  he's  one  of  the  wags, 

And  the  critter  that  he  drives  is  the  very  best  of  nags  ; 

So  all  ye  wives  and  daughters,  just  bring  out  all  your  rags, 

And  turn  things  topsy-turvy,  while   hunting  up   your  old  brass  kettles, 

pulled  wool,  pelts  and  tags, 
For  I'm  the  chap  to  trade  with  you  and  put  them  in  my  bags. 

"  I'll  tell  you  at  the  outset  —  the  folks  all  call  me  Dan  ; 

And  if  you  want  a  porringer,  or  coffee-pot,  or  pan, 

Or  skimmer,  dipper,  ladle,  or  a  beautiful  oil  can,  — 

To  say  nothing  of  needles,  thread,  tape,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  dolls, 

tin  whistles,  or  a  very  prcttv  fan, 
Why*,  I'm  the  chap  to  trade  with  you,  just  like  a  gentleman." 

"Hullo,  little  White  Hair!  How  do  you  do?  "  shouted 
Dan,  as  he  finished  his  song  in  Captain  Krinkle's  door- 
yard.  He  threw  down  the  reins,  jumped  to  the  ground, 
gave  Caleb  a  toss  into  the  air,  caught  him  as  lie  came 
down,  squeaked  like  a  pig,  crowed  like  a  rooster,  and 
barked  like  a  dog,  till  Caleb  was  wild  with  delight. 

Everybody  in  and  around  Millbrook  was  acquainted  with 
Dan.  The  housewives  knew  that  his  pans,  dippers  and 
coffee-pots  were  made  of  good  tin  ;  that  his  tubs  and  pails 
were  equal  to  any  to  be  found  in  Mr.  Meek's  store  :  and 
that  Dan  always  paid  a  fair  price  for  paper  rags,  pelts, 
old  brass  kettles,  and  the  odds  and  ends  of  almost  every 
thing. 

People  made  fun  of  Dan  as  well  as  of  his  horse,  but  he 
was  a  universal  favorite,  for  all  that.  They  respected  him 
because  he  was  good  to  his  mother,  —  a  poor  widow,  who 


Dan   Dish  away.  35 

lost  her  husband*when  Dan  was  a  little  boy  in  frock  and 
trousers.  Her  husband  was  a  wood-chopper,  and  worked 
in  the  lumber  swamp  in  winter,  but  one  day  his  fellow-work 
men  brought,  in  his  body,  mangled  by  a  falling  tree.  The 
wife,  though  crushed  awhile  bv  the  blow,  accepted  it,  and 
taught  Dan  to  accept  il,  too,  as  God's  providence.  She 
had  been  n-kcd  10  marry  a  second  time,  but  had  rejected 
the  offer  and  was  living  in  a  little  house  in  an  out-of-the- 
way  place,  on  a  cross-road,  where  few  people  passed  in 
summer  and  where  the  snowdrifts  were  piled  even  with 
the  fences  in  winter,  getting  a  living  by  knitting  stock 
ings,  braiding  palm-leaf  hats,  and  selling  eggs  and  chick 
ens.  Dan  helped  her  by  trotting  down  to  Millbrook,  even 
when  he  was  a  little  bit  of  a  fellow,  with  a  basket  of  eggs 
or  an  armful  of  hats,  carrying  them  to  the  store,  and  re 
turning  with  stocking-yarn,  a  bundle  of  palm-leaf,  a  little 
sugar,  tea  and  coffee,  or  -with  a  small  bag  of  flour  upon  his 
shoulder. 

They  lived  two  miles  from  school,  and  the  snowdrifts  in 
winter  were  deep;  so  he  studied  his  spelling-book  and 
learned  the  multiplication  table  at  home. 

Dan  was  not  strong  enough  to  swing  an  axe,  as'  his 
father  had  done,  or  to  hoe  corn,  but  he  must  do  some 
thing  for  a  living;  he  could  be  a  pedler.  With  his  moth 
er's  help  he  started,  when  he  was  but  a  boy  of  sixteen, 
with  a  cart  and  an  old  horse. 

His  mother  had  taught  him  early  in  childhood  a  few 
fundamental  principles,  partly  from  the  Bible,  partly 'from 
her  own  ideas  of  things,  such  as  these:  — 

Honesty  is  the  best  policy,  because  it  is  right. 
Goodness  and  truth  arc  better  than  money. 
Do  good  whenever  you  can  get  a  chance, 
Get  and  give,  and  you  will  have  all  you  need. 


36  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Mrs.  Dishaway  not  only  had  enough  for  herself  and 
Dan,  but  something  for  those  who  had  hard  work  to  make 
both  ends  of  the  year  meet.  If  a  watcher  was  wanted  for 
anybody  down  with  typhoid  fever,  or  going  with  consump 
tion,  she  was  ready  at  a  moment's  notice.  She  had  some 
thing  in  her  cupboard — jelly  or  jam — to  tempt  the  appe 
tite.  There  was  no  nurse  like  Mother  Dishaway.  If 
little  strangers  came  in  any  household,  she  was  there  to 
care  for  them.  So  it  came  about  that  she  called  herself 
second  mother  to  half  the  children  in  town,  —  to  Moses. 
White  Hair,  Linda,  Bell,  and  scores  of  others. 

Mrs.  Dishaway  squared  her  life  by  a  text  in  the  Psalms, 
and  pinned  her  faith  upon  it :  — 

"  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good ;  so  shalt  thou  dwell 
in  the  land  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed." 

It  being  his  mother's  faith,  Dan  insensibly  appropriated 
it,  and  thus  it  was  as  natural  for  him  to  do  little  acts  of 
kindness  as  to  eat  his  dinner. 

As  a  knight  errant  of  feudal  days  notified  the  warden  of 
a  castle  of  his  approach,  so  Dan  heralded  his  coming  to  a 
farm-house  by  blowing  a  trumpet,  and  the  boys  and  girls 
hearing  it,  clapped  their  hands  and  shouted,  "  Dan  is  com 
ing  !  Dan  is  coming !  " 

There  are  men  in  the  world  who  are  friends  to  every 
body, —  universal  friends,  so  full  of  good  nature  that  they 
may  be  likened  to  the  watering  troughs  by  the  roadside, 
put  up  for  the  refreshment  of  travellers,  —  man  and  beast 
alike,  —  connected  by  an  aqueduct  with  an  unseen  moun 
tain  spring  ever  flowing.  Dan  was  full  of  good  humor 
and  it  bubbled  up  continually.  The  song  he  had  sung 
was  one  of  his  own  getting  up.  Although  the  people 
along  his  route  had  heard  it  again  and  again,  it  never  was 
an  old  song,  especially  to  the  young  folks.  He  sang  it 


Dan  Dishaway.  37 

while  going  up  to  a  farm-house,  and  before  getting  down 
from  his  cart,  with  admiring  groups  in  the  doorway  and  at 
the  windows. 

While  Dan  was  having  his  frolic  with  White  Hair,  Cap 
tain  Krinkle  was  examining  the  horse. 

"Blind  of  the  right  eye  —  a  spavin  on  one  leg  —  a  ring 
bone  on  the  other  —  foundered  —  got  the  heaves  —  hide 
like  an  old  hair  trunk  !  "  The  Captain  said  it  aloud,  as  if 
in  soliloquy. 

"Any  more  qualifications,  Cap'n?" 

There  \vas  a  grin  on  Dan's  face.   . 

"  Dan,  why  don't  you  knock  that  old  rack-o'-bones  on 
the  head  ?  He's  a  standing  advertisement,  —  Oats  wanted : 
inquire  within.  Better  let  the  crows  pick  his  bones,"  said 
the  Captain. 

"  I/et  the  crows  pick  his  bones  !  Not  yet,  Cap'n.  Ye  see 
I  ha\  c  a  sort  of  affection  for  the  poor  old  critter,  gest  because 
he  is  despised  and  rejected  by  everybody.  He  ain't  hand 
some,  I'll  confess,  but  handsome  is  that  handsome  does. 
Don't  he  draw  my  truck  over  these  hills  gest  as  well  as  if  he 
was  beautiful  to  look  at?  Don't  he  know  every  crook  and 
turn  in  the  road,  notwithstanding  he's  blind  of  one  eye? 
Cap'n,  if  you  only  knew  how  slow  that  horse  can  go,  how 
much  stop  there  is  in  him,  and  how  much  lie  can  stand  still, 
you  would  have  a  good  deal  of  respect  for  him.  What  if  he 
is  a  perpetual  advertisement  of  oats  wanted?  Don't  he  get 
'cm  —  a  half  bushel  a  day?  I'll  acknowledge  that  they  don't 
make  him  fat  and  that  he  is  all  skin  and  bones,  but  he  is  a 
good  old  critter,  —  has  done  heaps  of  work  in  his  day  and 
all  for  his  victuals  and  drink.  Seeing  that  he's  a  member  of 
the  cold-water  society,  his  drink  don't  cost  any  thing  though. 
Let  the  crows  pick  his  bones  ?  I  couldn't  have  the  heart  to 
do  it,  Cap'n.  I  couldn't  knock  any  thing  in  the  head, 


38  Caleb  Krinkle. 

sheep,  kitten,  or  dog, — unless  the  dog  was  running  mad  or 
going  to  bite  somebody.  I  like  to  see  'em  enjoying  them 
selves." 

Couldn't  have  the  heart  !  It  was  a  portrayal  of  his  own 
character, — his  good  nature  and  kind-heartedness. 

"Ah  !  I  know  what  you  want,  White  Hair;  it  ;.-,  that  tin 
horse  on  trucks  that  I've  got  in  my  cart,  and  you  shall  have 
it  before  I  buy  a  single  rag  of  your  mother,"  he  said,  speak 
ing  to  Caleb.  Out  came  the  toy  from  the  cart  in  a  twink 
ling. 

"  There  !  White  Hair  !  I've  brought  that  for  you,  and  as 
that  cute  old  feller,  Shakspeare,  once  said  about  rosemary  — 
it's  for  remembrance. 

"I  'spose,  Cap'n,  you  think  I  do  that  to  get  on  your  soft 
side,  so  that  you  will  sell  your  pelts  cheap  ;  but  it  is  no  such 
thing.  I  do  it  because  it  makes  Caleb  happv,  and  makes  me 
feel  good.  Now,  that  tin  horse  clidw't  cost  me  two  cents, 
but  I  have  made  lilile  White  Hair  happy  from  the  tips  of  his 
fingers  to  the  ends  of  his  toes,  and  he  will  think  of  me  all 
day,  and  to-morrow,  and  next  week,  and  next  year.  Qh,  I 
tell  ye,  Cap'n,  there  ain't  many  of  us  but  what  like  to  be 
thought  of.  Now  I  shall  be  as  jolly  as  a  lark  all  day  long, 
and  you'll  feel  good  too,  with  White  Hair  trotting  round  rat-' 
tling  that  thiiMfcun  the  floor.  It  will  be  sweet  music,  and 
Mr^tfHi  ;itt!  •:<••••  'i;?a..-  io  ivv.l.  or  do  some- 

:.ig  *  i.i  ybe.  I've  noticed  that 

•on:  .•'.•;•:-••';:>  -v  ought,  and  I 
kno\v^^^^^^^^Ko  will  wake  up  to  the  fact  by  and  by, 
wl;  V  i:ave  gone  to  skvp  out  in  the 

graveyard.  But  as  I  was  saying,  Cap'n,  —  when  Mrs.  Krinkle 
sees  White  Hair  happy  with  it,  the  smiles  will  run  all  over 
her  face,  and  she  will  be  glad  down  in  her  heart.  Don't  you 
see  ?  It  don't  take  only  the  littlest  pebble  to  send  the  ripple 


Dan    Dishaway.  39 

all  over  the  mill-pond  here,  so  if  I  make  him  happy  and  he 
makes  you  and  your  wife  happy,  and  that  sets  all  of  us  to 
making  somebody  else  feel  good,  —  why,  you  can't  tell  where 
it  will  stop.  Isow,  I  don't  expect  to  get  your  sheep-skins 
one  cent  cheaper  because  I  have  given  White  Hair  a  tin 
horse.  I  shall  pay  you  what  I  can  afford  to  and  now  just 
bring  'em  on." 

'•  D,m,  I  wish  all  of  us  had  your  philosophy.  We  should 
be  happier,  all  hands  of  us,  than  we  are." 

"Well,  maybe,  but  you  know  I  never  went  to  school  only 
long  enough  to  'get  over  to  the  Rule  of  Three,  and  all  the 
education  I've  got  has  been  picked  up  here  and  there,  just 
as  I  pick  up  my  rags.  If  I've  got  the  philosophy  I  wasn't 
inoculated  for  it  at  college,  but  have  got  it  in  the  natural 
way,  and  maybe  it'll  go  hard  with  me." 

"  I  notice  that  you  quote  from  Shakspeare.  I  should  like 
to  know  if  you  ever  read  his  works?  " 

"  Why,  bless  you,  Cap'n,  I've  read  every  one  of  his  plays, 
at  odd  jobs.  You  see  I  buy  old  rags  and  there  is  all  sorts 
of  truck  that  goes  into  my  cart,  —  old  newspapers,  al 
manacs,  letters,  and  books.  I  get  old  writs  at  the  lawyers' 
offices,  old  sermons  from  the  ministers,  old  bills  at  the 
stores,  old  books  from  the  garrets  here  and  there.  Once  I 
picked  up  an  old  copy  of  Shak>;>eare,  and  on  rainy  days, 
when  I  haven't  any  thing  i.o  do,  .!  ,  .  i  make  the  ac  i-iaim. 
of  Mrs.  Macbeth  and  Mr.  Hamk-;,  ;md  a"  .  of  'em. 

It  is  entertaining,  besides  being  elevating.  I've  got  halt  a 
dozen  bushels  of  library  at  home  tucked  away  in  the  g:! 
—  all  sorts  of  old  books  from  old  Coiion  Mather  up  to  Noah 
Webster's  spelling-book,  —  and  John  Bunyan,  John  Milton, 
Dr.  Watts,  and  I  don't  know  who.  If  Rev.  Mr.  Canticle 
should  happen  to  resign  and  you  should  want  a  supply  of 
sermons  for  the  deacons  to  read  while  you  are  looking  up 


40  Caleb  Krinklc. 

another  minister,  just  call  on  me ;  I've  got  several  barrels 
full.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  —  all  sorts  of  odds  and  ends 
get  into  my  cart  and  lots  of  secrets,  Cap'n." 

Dan  nodded  his  head,  lowered  his  voice,  and  winked  sig 
nificantly  to  his  listener  and  went  on  in  a  confidential  man 
ner. 

"Family  secrets.  Now,  Cap'n,  I  ain't  going  to  tell  you  or  any 
body  else  what  I  know.  I  peddle  tin-ware,  —  the  best  double 
block,  thick  rolled,  extra  milled,  —  but  I  don't  dicker  in  family 
secrets.  I  want  you  to  understand  that.  I  ain't  responsible 
for  the  family  secrets  getting  into  my  cart ;  if  folks  are  care 
less  and  put  'em  into  the  rag-bag,  when  they  ought  to  go 
into  the  fire,  that  is  their  lookout  and  not  mine.  I  have  a 
right  to  read  'em,  but  I  haven't  any  right  to  tattle  'em.  Why, 
I  couldn't  look  a  decent  man  in  the  eye  if  I  should  give  my 
self  up  to  peddling  scandal.  If  I  were  to  go  into  that  busi 
ness,  how  long  do  you  think  it  would  be  before  the  women 
would  slam  the  door  in  my  face?  and  serve  me  right  too. 
How  long  do  you  think  it  would  be  before  little  White  Hair 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  tots  would  feel  that  I  was  a  snake  in 
the  grass?  which  I  ain't,"  said  Dan,  vehemently. 

"  I  think  that  you  have  taken  a  sensible  view  of  it,  Dan." 

"  Well,  Cap'n,  I  try  to,  but  a  tin  peddler,  if  he  keeps  his 
eyes  and  ears  open,  has  a  chance  to  know  a  great  deal  about 
what  is  going  on." 

"  That  is  so,  but  I  never  thought  of  it  before." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Krinkle,  how  do  you  do?"  said  Dan  to  the 
Captain's  wife,  who  came  upon  the  piazza  at  the  moment. 
"  I  am  real  glad  to  see  you  so  smiling  and  happy.  And  no 
wonder  you  are  happy  when  you  have  such  a  nice  fellow  as 
little  White  Hair — to  warm  up  your  heart  all  day  long." 

"And,  Deborah,  how  do  you  do?"  he  said  to  the  rosy 
cheeked  girl  who  was  washing  dishes  in  the  kitchen,  and  who 


Dan   Dishaway.  41 

came  to  the  door  with  a  towel  in  her  hand.  Dan  had  often 
noticed  that  Deborah  was  neat  and  trim,  and  had  plump 
cheeks  and  a  merry  laugh. 

He  knew  all  the  girls  in  Millbrook  and  in  the  surrounding 
towns,  but  there  was  something  about  Deborah  —  he  couldn't 
hardly  say  what  —  that  made  him  feel  light-hearted  whenever 
he  saw  her.  It  couldn't  be  because  she  was  only  sixteen 
years  old,  for  there  were  other  girls  that  were  only  sixteen, 
and  they  did  not  make  every  thing  so  sunny  and  pleasant  as 
Deborah  did  by  her  presence.  Dan  was  but  twenty-one,  so 
it  could  not  be  the  difference  of  years.  He  knew  that  folks 
said  he  was  a  great  gawky,  and  whenever  he  stood  before 
Deborah  he  felt  that  what  they  said  must  be  true. 

"  It  is  just  like  being  in  the  sunshine  to  see  you,  Deborah." 

"  Ah  !  Jowler,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  he  said,  stooping  down 
to  caress  the  old  dog  that  was  looking  up  wistfully  into  his 
face,  wagging  his  tail.  "  Noble  old  fellow."  Jowler  was 
usually  very  dignified  toward  strangers  and  had  a  low  growl 
for  those  he  did  not  like,  but  never  a  growl  for  Dan.  He 
rubbed  his  head  against  Dan's  legs  and  followed  him  round 
the  yard.  The  cat  came  out  from  the  house,  climbed  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  laid  her  furry  face  against  his  cheek,  purr 
ing  a  welcome.  When  the  doves  came  flying  through  the 
air,  Dan  reached  out  his  hand  to  them  till  they  narrowed 
their  circles  and  fluttered  around  his  head,  alighted  at  length 
at  his  feet  and  picked  up  the  oats  which  he  threw  to  them. 

While  Mrs-:  Krinkle  was  looking  over  his  wares  Dan 
went  into  the  garden,  stood  by  the  bee-hives,  made  a  low 
buzzing  with  his  lips  and  took  up  a  double  handful  from 
the  great  bunch  of  bees  hanging  on  the  hive.  They 
crawled  over  his  face,  but  they  knew  he  was  their  friend, 
and  bees  do  not  often  enact  the  part  of  Brutus  and  stab 
their  friends.  The  whole  animal  creation  seemed  to  be 


42  Caleb  Krinkle. 

under  Dan's  control.  Horses  that  laid  back  their  ears 
and  snapped  at  other  people  with  their  teeth,  rubbed  their 
noses  against  his  face  and  submitted  to  his  caressing. 

Dan  was  fond  of  music,  and  carried  a  violin,  which  he 
played  by  the  hour  as  his  horse  plodded  along  the  roads. 
He  listened  to  the  winds  and  imitated  the  sighing  of  the 
pines;  caught  up  the  song  of  the  thrushes,  the  orioles,  the 
larks  and  the  bobolinks  and  wove  them  into  melodies. 
The  hum  of  the  midge,  the  gurgling  of  the  brook,  the 
voices  of  children,  were  music  to  his  ears,  and  filled  him 
with  a  strange  delight.  There  was  hardly  a  child  in  Mill- 
brook  or  along  Dan's  route  of  travel,  that  could  not  show 
a  gift  from  him.  livery  little  girl  had  a  doll  with  carmine 
lips  and  cheeks,  every  boy  a  tin  whistle  or  trumpet,  or  a 
horse  on  trucks.  No  wonder  that  parents  and  children 
alike  were  pleased  when  they  heard  his  trumpet  sending 
its  resounding  notes  over  the  valley  and  out  upon  the 
hills.  No  matter  where  night  overtook  him,  for  lie  was 
welcome  at  every  farm-house.  Pleasant  were  the  kitchens 
in  the  evenings  when  Dan  was  there  to  tell  stories  or  to 
play  the  violin  and  to  frolic  with  the  children. 

"  Well,  Jonathan,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  was  Dan's  respectful 
salutation  to  Jonathan  Jolly,  who  had  been  hoeing  corn 
in  the  field  behind  the  barn,  and  who  came  in  for  a  drink 
of  water. 

"Hullo,  Rag  Bag!  how  are  you?"  said  Jonathan, 
squeezing  Dan's  right  hand  till  the  bones  fairly  cracked. 
It  was  Jonathan's  little  joke  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
play  upon  his  acquaintances.  He  took  pleasure  in  seeing 
them  wince  under  the  grip  of  his  iron  muscles.  It  was 
like  the  turning  of  a  vice. 

"  Pretty  well,  —  there  —  there  —  there  — that  will  do 
—  1  thank  you/'  said  Dan,  writhing  under  the  torture. 
"I  see  that  you  haven't  forgot  your  old  tricks,"  he  said. 


Dan    Dishaway.  43 

"What  tricks  ?"  Jonathan  asked,  endeavoring  to  put  on 
an  innocent  look. 

:•  If  you  and  a  Rocky  Mountain  grizzly  should  have  a  set- 
to.  I'd  bet  on  you,"  Dan  replied,  rubbing  his  right  hand 
with  his  left  to  rest'") re  the  circulation. 

Jonathan  was  stout  and  broad-chested.  He  could  lift 
great  forkfuls  of  hay,  or  take  up  a  barrel  of  cider  as  if  it 
were  only  a  gallon  keg.  Things  went  ahead  whenever 
Jonathan  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel  in  earnest.  He 
had  blue  eyes,  and  wore  side  whiskers,  which  gave  him  a 
manly  appearance.  Captain  Krinkle  employed  him  be 
cause  he  was  up  early  in  the  morning  and  on  hand  when 
wantt  d  and  never  shirked.  Mrs.  Krinkle  liked  him  be 
cause  he  was  kind  to  White  Hair,  and  White  Hair  liked 
him  because  he  whittled  out  whirligigs  and  windmills,  and 
made  him  a  pair  of  trucks  and  a  little  cart.  Deborah 
liked  him  because  he  was  good-looking.  Besides,  he 
helped  her  milk  the  cows,  and  when  the  work  was  done 
out  of  doors,  tonk  hold  of  the  churn,  and  though  the 
cream  might  be  as  thick  as  hasty  pudding  and  the  butter 
a  long  while  in  coming,  he  never  let  go  of  the  dasher  till 
it  came.  She  liked  him  because  —  because  —  because  — 
because  —  she  liked  him.  Hers  was  a  girl's  reason  and 
she  kept  it  to  h-,  rself. 

Dan  opened  his  cart  and  Mrs.  Krinkle  and  Deborah 
looked  over  the  pans  and  coffee-pots  while  Jonathan  and 
Dan  and  Captain  Krinkle  were  talking  about  the  weather. 
"  No\v,  Mrs.  Krinkle,  you  know  what  my  ware  is  :  my  coffee 
pots  and  tin  pans  and  skimmers  are  made  of  the  best 
double  refined  tip-top  tin,  roiled  out  by  a  patent  back 
action  roller.  It  is  all  bran-lire  new,  and  so  bright  that 
you  can  use  the  pans  for  looking  glasses.  I  hain't  but  one 
price,  and  it  is  maiked  on  every  thing  in  the  old  cart. 


44  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Bring  out  all  your  rags,  pelts  and  old  brass  kettles,  your 
odds  and  ends.  Take  your  own  time.  I  ain't  in  a  hurry." 
Then  he  took  Caleb  on  his  back  and  had  a  race  with  him 
round  the  yard,  the  little  fellow  laughing,  crowing  and 
clapping  his  hands. 

Dan  had  noticed  that  women  took  delight  in  looking:  at 

o  o 

the  tin  pans  and  dishes,  even  if  they  did  not  want  to  buy ; 
that  they  were  pleased  to  see  the  reflection  of  their  faces 
in  the  shining  metal,  and  he  administered  to  their  pleasure 
by  never  being  in  a  hurry. 

"  What  will  you  have,  Jonathan,  a  jewsharp  or  a  tin  whis 
tle  ? "  said  Dan,  as  Jonathan  turned  over  the  various  arti 
cles  in  the  cart. 

Captain  Krinkle  and  his  wife  and  Deborah  laughed  at 
the  sly  thrust  which  Dan  had  given. 

"  I  would  buy  a  trumpet,  only  I  don't  want  to  deprive  you 
from  blowing  your  own  horn,''  answered  Jonathan. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  have  a  sauce-pan?  I've  got  some 
real  nice  ones,  made  of  the  best  double  refined  tip-top  tin  ; 
I  am  afraid,  however,  that  they  would  be  rather  too  small 
for  you,"  said  Dan. 

Notwithstanding  the  bantering,  Dan  and  Jonathan  were 
good  friends.  It  was  only  the  coming  together  of  flint  and 
steel,  and  the  sparks  of  course  must  fly.  After  a  hearty 
laugh,  Jonathan  went  to  his  work  and  Dan  turned  his  at 
tention  to  Deborah,  who  had  come  out  with  a  basket  filled 
with  rags.  She  stood  by  his  side  with  smiling  eyes  while 
he  weighed  them.  It  took  him  a  great  while  to  get  the 
exact  weight  with  the  steelyards.  He  moved  the  poise  a 
notch  at  a  time  and  waited  for  the  beam  to  tip,  looking 
from  the  poise  to  Deborah  and  from  Deborah  to  the  poise. 
Before  he  ascertained  the  weight  the  poise  dropped  from 
the  beam  and  came  near  falling  on  his  toes.  In  taking 


Dan    Dishaway.  4.5 

them  out  of  the  way  he  tipped  over  the  basket  and  scat 
tered  the  rags  upon  the  ground. 

"Well,  I  declare,  I  am  a  noodle  and  no  mistake,"  he 
said,  getting  down  upon  his  knees  to  pick  up  the  rags, — 
Deborah  hastening  to  help  him  before  the  wind  blew  them 
away.  Jonathan  saw  it  from  the  field,  and  wished  that  he 
was  there  to  give  Dan  a  kick  and  tumble  him  headlong 
into  the  basket. 

They  soon  had  them  gathered  up,  and  then,  with  Debo 
rah  to  move  the  poise,  Dan  made  out  to  weigh  them.  Cap 
tain  Krinkle  and  his  wife  had  gone  into  the  house,  leaving 
Deborah  to  get  all  the  pans,  basins  and  dippers  she  needed. 
She  stood  with  them  in  her  hands  while  Dan  closed  his 
cart. 

"  I  must  have  a  drink  of  water  right  out  of  the  north 
east  corner  of  the  well  before  I  go,"  said  Dan. 

"  I  will  draw  it  for  you,"  said  Deborah,  laying  her  basins 
on  the  grass  and  hastening  to  the  well,  pleased  with  his 
attentions,  and  really  liking  him  because  he  was  so  kind- 
hearted  and  good.  Dan  came  and  stood  by  her  side  while 
she  was  lowering  the  bucket. 

"  Don't  you  think  those  are  two  pretty  good-looking  crea 
tures,  considering  who  they  are?"  He  pointed  to  the  re 
flections  of  their  faces  in  the  well.  She  replied  only  by  a 
laugh,  and  the  next  moment  dashed  them  out  by  sinking 
the  bucket  into  the  water.  The  creaking  of  the  sweep  was 
sweet  music  in  his  ears,  because  Deborah  was  drawing 
water  for  him,  as  Rachel  drew  it  for  Jacob,  and  he  wished 
she  had  ever  so  many  sheep  and  lambs  to  draw  water  for, 
so  that  he  could  help  her.  He  would  not  care  if  it  took 
all  day.  He  should  like  to  do  just  as  Jacob  did,  —  help 
her  and  kiss  her,  but  perhaps  she  would  not  like  it,  and 
he  could  not  be  rude  to  her  He  looked  over  the  rim  of 


46  Caleb  Krinklc. 

the  dipper  into  her  sparkling  eyes,  while  drinking.  There 
was  mischief  in  them.  She  joggled  the  dipper  ;<nd  spilled 
the  water  in  his  face,  and  then  begged  his  pardon  so  be- 
witcliingly,  that  he  wanted  to  clasp  her  to  his  heart  and 
thank  her  for  tormenting  him. 

"  Good-by.  bright  eyes,"  said  Dan.  getting  upon  his 
cart  and  chirruping  to  his  horse. 

':  We  shall  have  some  more  rags  by  and  b\y"  saicl  JX'bo- 
rah,  smiling.  Her  words  floated  out  sweetlv  and  pleas 
antly  on  the  summer  air.  Hi.1  heard  them  through  the  dav. 
The  robins  sang  them,  the  swallows  twittered  them,  the 
bees  hummed  them.  He  wove  them  into  a  melody.  The 
winds  took  up  the  strain  and  wafted  it  to  the  pines,  the 
brook  babbled  it.  He  heard  it  all  clay  and  dreamed  of  it 
at  night. 


,  CHAPTER  V. 

WHITE    HAIR    AT    SCHOOL. 

UPOX  the  oaken  seats  of  the  school-house  sat  White 
Hair  and  his  mates.  —  Moses  Meek,  Job  Titicut, 
Ben  Totlle,  Miranda  May.  Linda  Fair,  Bell  Blossom, 
Daisy  Davenport  and  Mary  Fielding.  There  were  a  troop 
besides,  fifty  or  more,  from  litile  ones  just  learning  the 
alphabet,  up  to  big  boys  and  girls  who  were  ready  to  enter 
the  academy.  Miss  Hyssop  w.ts  teacher. 

Alihough  the  golden  beams  of  the  summer  sun  streamed 
through  the  windows  and  along  the  floor,  it  was  neverthe 
less  a  chilly  place,  Caleb  thought,  for  the  sharp  eyes  of 
Miss  Hyssop  were  on  him  all  the  time.  He  remembered 
the  grip  she  had  given  him — how  it  remained  like  a  man 
acle  on  his  arm  —  when  she  lifted  him  out  of  the  jail  in  the 
graveyard.  When  he  thought  of  the  many  years  during 
which  she  had  been  a  teacher,  and  of  the  great  amount  of 
knowledge  she  had  imparted,  when  he  saw  how  thin  and 
spare  she  was.  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  by  and  by, 
if  she  did  not  stop,  she  would  teach  herself  all  away. 

It  was  dull  business  for  little  White  Hair  to  sit  through 
the  long  forenoons  and  longer  afternoons  on  a  bench  so 
high  that  his  feet  did  not  reach  the  floor. 

"  Put  down  your  hands  and  sit  up  straight,  Master 
Caleb,"  said  Miss  Hyssop,  if  perchance  he  put  his  hands 

47 


48  Caleb  Krinkle. 

above  his  head  or  leaned  in  any  direction.  If  he  did  not 
put  them  down  on  the  instant,  Miss  Hyssop  rapped  his 
knuckles.  Now  and  then  he  would  chew  paper  spit-balls 
on  the  sly  and  snap  them  at  Rancla  or  Linda  or  Moses, 
but  the  chances  were  that  for  every  spit-ball  he  had  two 
pinchings  of  his  ears.  If  he  rocked  to  and  fro,  or  twirled 
his  thumbs  to  make  the  time  fly  faster,  Miss  Hyssop 
thumped  his  head  against  the  ceiling.  If  he  was  tired  and 
sleepy  and  thought  to  take  a  nap,  just  as  he  was  nicely 
fixed  he  found  himself  sprawling  on  the  floor,  a  hooked 
nose  hanging  over  him  and  sharp  eyes  looking  him  through. 

"  Night  is  the  time  to  sleep,"  said  Miss  Hyssop,  picking 
him  up  and  sitting  him  down  with  a  bump  on  the  seat. 
Twice  during  the  forenoon  he  stood  with  his  toes  to  a 
crack  in  the  floor  and  ducked  his  head  when  she  said 
"Attention." 

When  Miss  Hyssop's  back  was  turned,  it  was  a  pleasure 
to  tickle  Bell  Blossom  slyly  on  the  ear  with  a  straw.  Caleb 
liked  to  look  at  Bell,  she  had  such  dark  glossy  hair  that 
curled  all  over  her  head,  and  black  eyes  that  had  a  bright 
twinkle,  and  there  were  smiles  always  frisking  around  the 
dimples  on  her  cheeks.  Not  for  the  world  would  he  offend 
her,  but  then  it  was  excellent  fun  to  see  her  hand  come  up 
with  a  slap  to  brush  away  the  fly  when  the  straw  tickled 
her.  Bell  was  so  good-natured,  that  when  she  found  it 
was  not  a  fly,  instead  of  getting  angry  she  took  it  in  good 
part  and  shook  her  fist  at  him,  with  the  smiles  running  all 
over  her  face,  and  though  she  did  not  whisper  the  words, 
she  made  her  mouth  say,  "  I'll  pay  you,  old  fellow."  In 
her  good  nature  she  soon  forgot  all  about  paying  him,  and 
only  wished  she  could  help  him  out  of  the  scrape  when 
Miss  Hyssop  took  him  by  the  ear  across  the  room  to  the 
jail  under  the  desk,  where  she  could  stow  away  a  culprit 


White  Hair  at  School.  49 

and  keep  him  in  confinement.  Caleb  could  look  out 
through  a  crack  upon  the  school,  and  the  school  could 
look  in  upon  him,  as  if  he  were  a  wild  animal  in  a  cage. 

"  There's  the  monkey !  "  Moses  whispered  it  to  Bell 
on  one  side  and  to  Ben  Tottle  on  the  other.  When  Miss 
Hyssop  turned  round  to  see  what  was  going  on,  Moses  was 
studying  hard,  saying  over  to  himself,  "Seven  times  seven 
is  forty-nine,  eight  times  seven  is  fifty-six."  Miss  Hyssop 
heard  the  tittering  and  giggling  behind  her,  and  Bell  and 
Linda  had  their  ears  boxed,  and  Ben  caught  a  half  dozen 
red-hot  blows  on  the  palms  of  his  hands,  but  Moses  was 
studying  so  hard  that  nothing  happened  to  him.  They 
became  acquainted  with  all  the  punishments  that  Miss 
Hyssop  could  devise.  She  made  them  sit  on  nothing, 
crooking  the  joints  of  the  knees,  and  then  varied  the  ex 
ercise  by  seating  them  on  a  sharp  stone.  They  stood 
with  their  arms  raised  aloft  like  the  fakirs  of  India ;  held 
sticks  in  their  mouths ;  had  marks  innumerable  set  against 
their  names  on  a  "  black  list "  pinned  against  the  wall 
behind  Miss  Hyssop's  seat.  Caleb  now  and  then  found 
himself  sandwiched  between  Bell  and  Linda,  which  was 
indeed  capital  punishment,  —  to  say  nothing  of  having  his 
ears  pinched  and  pulled  and  his  head  bumped  against  the 
ceiling.  Moses  could  get  his  lessons  in  a  minute  or  two 
at  any  time,  and  have  all  the  rest  of  the  day  to  make  pic 
tures  en  his  slate,  or  whittle  out  whirligigs  on  the  sly. 
When  he  had  nothing  else  to  do  he  speared  flies  with  a 
pin,  and  laughed  to  see  them  kick,  and  he  enjoyed  it  all 
the  more  because  Linda  and  Randa  pitied  the  poor  crea 
tures  and  covered  their  eyes  with  their  hands  when  he 
held  them  up. 

Moses  had  as  much  candy  as  he  wanted  from  his  fath 
er's  store.  He  almost  always  had  some  for  Bell  and 
4 


50  Caleb  Krinkle, 

Linda  and    Daisy,  and   other   girls,  and   he    gave  of   his 
treasures  to  Ben  and  Job,  but  not  to  Caleb. 

Linda  was  at  the  head  of  the  class.  Moses  was  next, 
then  Miranda,  Job  and  Bell,  then  a  long  row  of  boys 
and  girls.  Caleb  was  at  the  foot,  and  had  stood  there  so 
long  that  he  had  lost  all  heart. 

"  It  ain't  no  use  to  try,"  he  said  to  Job. 

"You  just  keep  digging  away,"  was  the  reply  of  this 
great  good-natured  fellow,  with  big  ears,  wide  forehead 
and  mild  blue  eyes.  His  ears  were  so  large  that  Moses 
made  fun  of  them. 

"Job  ought  to  hear  more  and  know  more  than  the  rest  of 
us,  he's  got  such  thundering  great  ears,"  he  said,  using  one 
of  the  words  he  had  heard  in  his  father's  store,  where  the 
loungers  of  the  village  were  accustomed  to  sit  in  the  even 
ing.  Although  Job  had  big  ears,  he  was  ever  ready  to 
give  Caleb  or  anybody  else  a  lift,  if  he  could. 

"Caleb  is  the  bob  to  the  kite,"  said  Moses  in  a  whisper 
to  Randa,  looking  contemptuously  down  the  line.  Upon 
the  play-ground  he  called  him  "bobby,"  and  varied  it  to 
"baby"  and  "booby."  There  was  a  sting  in  the  words, 
and  Caleb  informed  Job  privately  that  if  Moses  didn't 
mind  what  he  was  up  to  that  he  would  catch  it." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  said  Job. 

"What?" 

"  Get  up  above  him." 

How  to  do  it  was  the  question.  He  would  try.  The 
taunt  stimulated  him.  Job  encouraged  him.  He  aston 
ished  them  all  by  spelling  a  word  which  Moses  and  all  be 
low  him  had  missed.  Miss  Hyssop  was  surprised  to  see 
him  march  up  the  line  and  take  his  place  next  to  the 
head,  doing  what  he  had  never  clone  before.  She  won 
dered  what  was  going  to  happen.  There  was  a  strange 


White  Hair  at  School.  51 

fluttering  about  White  Hair's  heart  when  he  took  his  place 
beside  Linda  and  saw  her  smile  of  welcome ;  but  the 
pleasure  of  the  victory  was  turned  to  pain  when  he  saw 
the  tears  starting  from  Randa's  eyes  and  rolling  down  her 
cheeks. 

Moses  grew  red  in  the  face  and  there  was  a  choking  in 
his  throat,  but  Job  nodded  his  head  to  Caleb  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  I  am  glad  of  it."  Moses  soon  got  over  the  un 
comfortable  feeling,  and  when  Miss  Hyssop's  back  was 
turned,  gave  Caleb  a  rap  with  his  fist  in  the  hollow  of  his 
leg  that  almost  brought  him  to  the  floor.  Caleb  was 
about  to  give  Moses  a  chuck  under  the  ear,  but  Miss 
Hyssop  turned  round  to  see  what  was  going  on,  and  he 
had  no  opportunity  of  paying  him  in  his  own  coin. 

It  was  Caleb's  first  victory.  It  thrilled  him.  The  bright 
light  from  Linda's  eyes  shone  into  his  soul  and  gave  him 
a  pleasure  such  as  he  never  before  had  experienced. 

"  I  ain't  a  booby.  I'll  show  them  what  I  can  do,''  he 
said  to  himself,  elated  by  the  triumph,  but  at  the  next 
round  made  a  mistake  and  found  Moses  stepping  above 
him.  The  next  word  sent  him  down  another  peg,  and  be 
fore  the  day  was  done  he  \vas  back  in  his  old  place  at  the 
foot.  He  was  disappointed,  chagrined  and  irritated.  He 
felt  like  knocking  somebody  down,  Moses  in  particular. 
He  was  certain  that  Miss  Hyssop  was  partial,  that  the  easy 
words  had  been  put  to  Moses  and  the  hard  ones  to  Jiim- 
sdf.  He  believed  that  she  had  ever  looked  upon  him  with 
suspicion  and  prejudice  from  that  Sunday  when  he  got  the 
maiden  all  forlorn  mixed  up  with  the  shepherds,  and  felt 
that  she  regarded  him  as  an  irreverent  fellow  who  delighted 
to  do  wicked  things,  and  that  she  must  ever  be  on  the 
watch  for  him.  He  recalled  what  Deborah  once  had  told 
him,  that  Miss  Hyssop  had  intended  to  be  Mrs.  Captain 


52  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Krinkle,  and  that  she  looked  cross  enough  to  bite  off  a 
board  nail  when  his  father  came  home  from  down  country 
with  his  beautiful  young  wife,  taking  everybody  by  surprise. 

"  It  was  lucky  for  me,"  said  Caleb  to  himself,  as  he 
thought  upon  it.  "  I  guess  I've  escaped  a  lot  of  spankings." 

But  if  there  were  punishments  without  number  at  school, 
there  was  pleasure  unspeakable  when  school  was  out,  in 
building  dams  by  the  roadside  after  a  shower  had  filled  the 
ditches;  in  floating  shingles  and  bits  of  board  down  stream, 
making  believe  they  were  rafts  on  a  river.  On  Saturday 
afternoons,  what  joy  to  play  in  the  barn  with  Moses,  Job, 
Ben,  and  a  dozen  other  boys,  hiding  in  out-of-the-way 
places,  under  the  horse-crib,  in  the  grain-bins,  behind 
the  cattle  stalls,  or  covering  themselves  with  hay  in 
nooks  and  corners,  and  darting  out  at  the  right  moment  to 
reach  the  goal !  What  fun  to  jump  from  the  high  beams 
and  go  down  with  a  swoop  like  that  of  a  night  hawk, 
landing  upon  the  straw  in  the  mow  beneath ! 

Jonathan  Jolly  put  up  a  swing  under  the  elm,  and  Linda, 
Miranda  and  Bell,  and  all  the  other  girls  came  to  enjoy  it. 
How  nice  to  have  Caleb  push  them,  sending  them  through 
the  air!  If  his  arms  ached  now  and  then,  he  forgot  it 
when  he  saw  the  bright  glow  on  Rancla's  cheeks.  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  do  what  he  could  for  such  a  dear  girl,  so  un 
selfish,  so  kind,  so  considerate  'of  the  happiness  of  Linda 
and  Bell  and  all  the  rest,  saying  after  she  had  taken  a  few 
turns,  "There,  Caleb,  now  let  me  stop.  I  have  had  my 
share." 

Caleb  did  not  know  which  he  liked  best,  Miranda  or 
Linda.  Bell  sometimes  ran  away  with  his  cap,  or  tossed 
it  over  the  fence,  tickled  his  ears  or  put  pebbles  in  his 
shoes  in  fun,  with  the  laughter  bubbling  from  her  lips. 
Miranda  and  Linda  never  played  any  such  pranks;  yet 


White  Hair  at  School,  53 

they  loved  to  have  a  good  time,  and  there  was  no  place 
where  they  could  enjoy  themselves  any  better  than  at  Cap 
tain  Krinkle's.  No  matter  if  they  turned  the  house  topsy 
turvy  now  and  then.  Mrs.  Krinkle  liked  to  see  them  do 
it.  And  it  was  the  girl  with  violet  eyes,  the  one  that 
seemed  so  quiet,  the  one  who  would  take  only  a  few  turns 
in  the  swing,  that  the  others  might  have  a  chance,  who 
was  their  ringleader. 

'•What  shall  we  do  next,  Randa?"  That  was  the  ques 
tion  when  they  had  exhausted  the  pleasure  of  a  particular 
romp  or  game,  and  Randa  was  seldom  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  it  should  be. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WORTH    HER    WEIGHT    IN    GOLD. 

r  I  ^HE  blacksmith's  home  was  a  small  unpainted  house 
_JL  with  a  low  roof,  standing  on  the  hillside,  away  from 
the  main  street,  and  overlooking  the  mill  pond,  the  village, 
and  the  valley.  It  was  surrounded  by  maple  trees,  whose 
branches  overshadowed  it.  There  was  a  stoop,  or  porch, 
at  one  end,  supported  by  posts,  with  a  bench  beneath  it, 
where  Mr.  Fair  often  sat  in  the  evening,  when  his  work 
for  the  day  was  done,  and  smoked  his  pipe.  A  woodbine 
crept  over  the  low  roof,  and  hung  in  festoons  around  the 
corner  and  along  the  eaves.  There  was  a  plat  of  green 
grass  between  the  house  and  the  street,  and  beside  the 
path  leading  to  the  gate  Linda  planted  her  sweet  wil- 
liams,  petunias,  marigolds,  hollyhocks  and  asters.  Morn 
ing  glories  opened  their  purple  lips  around  the  windows, 
and  a  scarlet  runner  twisted  itself  around  the  pine  post  that 
supported  one  corner  of  the  porch,  and  worked  its  way  up 
to  the  eaves.  There  were  flowers  in  the  bay  window  of 
the  sunny  little  sitting-room.  The  view  from  the  window 
embraced  the  entire  valley,  the  farms  upon  the  hills,  and 
the  distant  mountains. 

There  were  rows  of  plates,  teacups  and  saucers  on  the 
dresser;  there  were  rag  mats  upon  the  floor,  braided  by 
Linda  and  her  mother,  in  red,  green  and  blue  concentric 

54 


Worth  Her  Weight  in   Gold.  55 

circles.  The  walls  were  adorned  with  pictures  of  Adam 
and  Eve  in  the  garden,  and  Christ  blessing  children,  and 
a  colored  print  of  two  donkeys  in  a  field,  with  these  words 
written  beneath,  "When  shall  we  three  meet  again?"  The 
blacksmith  was  very  fond  of  asking  folks  to  find  the  third 
donkey  in  the  puzzle.  There  was  an  open  fireplace, 
which  Linda  kept  filled  with  green  pine  boughs  in  summer, 
and  where  a  cheerful  wood  fire  burned  in  winter.  There 
was  a  table  and  light-stand,  an  arm-chair  for  the  black 
smith,  a  rocking-chair  for  his  wife,  a  chest  of  drawers  with 
a  large  Bible  lying  upon  it,  and  a  shelf  over  it  filled  with 
books. 

In  the  gable  above  the  sitting-room  was  Linda's  cham 
ber,  with  a  window,  where  she  could  sit  and  behold  all  the 
beauties  of  the  valley.  She  was  an  only  child,  and  so 
ready  to  help  about  the  house  that  her  father  named  her 
Little  Maid. 

Linda  was  up  by  the  break  of  day  helping  about  the 
breakfast,  laying  the  plates,  making  the  coffee,  for  the  fire 
must  be  lighted  in  the  forge,  and  the  hammer  must  be 
clinking  on  the  anvil  by  sunrise.  But  before  going  to  his 
work  the  blacksmith  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  and  all 
three  sang  a  hymn  ;  and  then,  kneeling,  he  asked  God  to 
bless  himself,  his  wife,  and  their  darling  child  ;  to  give 
them  their  daily  bread;  to  quench  their  thiist  with  the 
water  of  lifej  to  bring  them  and  all  their  neighbors  day  by 
day  into  his  kingdom.  It  was  a  favorite  idea  with  him 
that  they  need  not  wait  till  after  death  to  get,  as  it  were, 
into  heaven,  but  that  a  daily  acknowledgment  of  God's 
goodness  and  of  Christ's  love  would  so  purify  them  that 
there  would  be  heaven  on  earth.  He  was  sure  that  it 
might  be  so,  else  why  should  Christ  have  said,  "The 
kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  He  repeated  it  often, 


56  Caleb  Krinkle* 

and  believed  it  heartily,  and  it  became  so  wrought  into  his 
being  that  everybody  could  see  "  the  kingdom  "  in  his  face. 
The  farmers,  who  came  to  get  their  horses  shod  and 
chains  mended,  discovered  it  in  his  honest  work.  If  any 
body  was  in  trouble  and  needed  sympathy  or  help,  they 
came  to  the  man  who  had  so  much  of  heaven  in  his 
heart. 

After  prayer  the  blacksmith  kissed  his  wife  on  her  lips 
and  Little  Maid  on  her  cheeks,  eyes,  forehead,  and,  last  of 
all,  on  her  lips,  and  then  went  singing  down  the  hill  to  his 
shop.  It  was  an  old  building,  weather-beaten  without  and 
dingy  within,  but  a  pleasant  place  to  White  Hair  and  his 
mates,  and  to  Bell  and  her  companions,  who  often  stopped 
on  their  way  to  school  to  see  the  flames  leap  up  the  nar 
row  chimney.  Mr.  Fair  allowed  them  to  try  their  hands 
at  the  bellows.  He  had  many  nice  stories  to  tell,  and 
always  spoke  to  them  so  pleasantly  that  they  looked  upon 
him  as  one  of  their  best  friends.  When  he  saw  how  fright 
ened  Bell,  Rancla,  Daisy,  Mary,  and  his  own  darling  Linda 
were  when  the  sparks  flew  in  their  faces,  he  said, — 

"  The  time  will  come,  little  chickens,  when  you  won't  be 
afraid  of  the  sparks." 

"  When  we  get  to  be  big  grown  up  girls,  we  shan't  be 
afraid  of  'em,"  said  Bell. 

"Of  course  you  won't;  you'll  like  to  have  them  round 
you  then,"  said  the  blacksmith,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his 
eyes.  ^ 

The  girls  looked  at  one  another,  wondering  what  he 
meant 

"  You  will  catch  them,  if  the  rest  don't,"  he  said,  bending 
down  and  kissing  Bell,  and  receiving  a  kiss  in  return. 
Why  it  was  that  Bell  would  be  more  likely  than  any  of  the 
others  to  catch  the  sparks  flying  out  from  the  forge,  was  a 
mystery  they  could  not  comprehend. 


Worth  Her  Weight  in  Gold,  57 

« Why  shall  I  catch  them?" 

"  Because  you've  got  curly  hair  and  rosy  cheeks,  and 
you'll  catch  them  with  your  eyes."  Deeper  than  ever  the 
riddle,  and  they  looked  into  each  other's  faces,  wondering 
what  it  might  mean. 

"  You'll  get  up  a  welding  heat,  all  of  you,  I  guess,  some 
day." 

The  flames  were  roaring,  and  the  bright  sparks  were 
darting  out  from  the  forge,  for  the  blacksmith  was  getting 
up  a  welding  heat,  and  Zach  Beetle,  a  great  overgrown 
boy,  was  bearing  down  upon  the  lever  that  worked  the 
bellows  with  all  his  might. 

"  Ready,"  said  the  blacksmith  to  Zach,  who  left  the  lever 
and  seized  his  sledge  hammer  as  Mr.  Fair  laid  the  two 
pieces  of  iron,  hot  from  the  fire,  upon  the  anvil.  How  the 
sparks  flew  when  Zach  began  to  strike.  "Tank  —  tank,"  it 
went,  and  then  the  blacksmith's  small  hammer,  in  his  right 
hand,  came  in  "tink  —  tink,"  and  then  it  was  "tink  —  tank, 

—  tink  —  tank,  —  tink  —  tank,"  till  the  blacksmith  said  "  That 
will  do,"  and  Zach  rested,  while  the  little  hammer  went  "  tink 

—  tink  —  tink,"  till  the  deep  red  glow  faded  away,  and  the  two 
pieces  were  united  in  one  so  perfectly  that  the  bright  eyes 
looking  on  could  not  discover  where  they  were  joined. 

"That  is  the  way  with  true  love  between  friend  and 
friend,"  said  the  blacksmith.  Then  after  drawing  his  bare 
arm  across  his  brow  to  wipe  away  the  sweat,  he  began  to 
sing.  He  sang  at  his  work,  in  the  choir  on  Sunday,  and  at 
home  with  his  sick  wife,  who  was  not  able  to  enjoy  much  of 
the  good  things  of  this  life.  The  people  of  Millbrook,  when 
they  heard  the  blacksmith's  hammer  ringing  from  morning 
till  night,  keeping  time  to  his  singing,  said  that  he  was  one  of; 
the  happiest  men  alive. 

At  noon,  Little  Maid  carried  his  dinner  to  him  in  a  basket, 


58  Caleb  Krinkle. 

with  a  tin  pail  filled  with  coffee.  One  of  the  artists  who 
came  up  from  Boston  to  take  studies  from  nature,  made  a 
sketch  of  the  blacksmith  at  dinner,  and  of  Linda  with"  her 
sweet  face,  earnest,  longing  eyes,  and  dark  brown  hair,  wear 
ing  a  straw  hat  with  pink  ribbon,  brushing  away  the  charcoal 
dust,  laying  a  white  napkin  on  the  bench,  taking  from  the 
basket  a  plate  of  cold  meat  and  brown  bread>  two  large- 
slices  of  wheat  bread  and  a  piece  of  apple  pie.  He  had  but 
to  set  his  tin  pail  of  coffee  on  the  coals  of  the  forge  a 
moment  and  he  could  have  it  smoking  hot.  While  he  was 
eating  Linda  sat  by  his  side  looking  into  his  eyes,  and  put  a 
pink  into  the  button-hole  of  his  vest,  so  that  while  he  was  at 
work  in  the  afternoon  he  would  think  of  her.  When  he  was 
through  with  his  dinner  he  filled  his  pipe  and  had  a  good 
smoke,  while  Little  Maid  picked  up  the  dishes  and  put  them 
in  the  basket,  and  went  up  the  road  to  her  home,  happy 
in  the  thought  that  she  had  been  able  to  do  something  for 
her  father  and  mother. 

In  the  calm  summer  evening,  when  his  work  was  done, 
the  blacksmith  sat  with  his  wife  and  daughter  on  the  bench 
beneath  the  woodbine,  and  sang,  Mrs.  Fair  singing  the  alto, 
Linda  the  soprano,  and  he  the  bass.  As  the  twilight  faded, 
and  the  sounds  of  the  day  were  dying,  when  there  was  heard 
only  the  murmuring  of  the  water  and  the  chirping  of  the 
crickets,  the  people  of  the  village  listened  to  the  strains  that 
floated  downward  on  the  evening  air.  The  old  folks  who 
were  nearly  through  with  this  world,  when  they  heard  the 
hymn,  coming,  as  it  were,  from  the  skies,  wiped  the  tears 
from  their  eyes,  for  it  set  them  to  thinking  of  the  dear  ones 
gone  on  before  them  who  were  singing  in  the  choir  of  the 
•g  Redeemer.  And  the  men  who  were  sitting  on  the  piazza  of 
the  hotel,  telling  stories,  stopped  their  loud  laughter  and  left 
out  an  oath  now  and  then,  for  they  felt  that  it  was  not  just 
the  thing  to  swear  while  listening  to  such  heavenly  music. 


Worth  Her   Weight  in  Gold.  59 

On  a  pleasant  midsummer  afternoon,  when  school  was  out, 
Linda  went  tripping  clown  the  hill  beneath  the  elms,  with  a 
basket  in  her  hand,  to  accept  Captain  Krinkle's  invitation  to 
go  into  his  fields  and  pick  strawberries.  Caleb  went  with 
her  down  a  green  lane  into  the  meadow.  They  walked  amid 
the  clover  blooms  where  the  rich  red  berries  were  ripening 
in  the  sun,  filled  their  baskets,  ate  till  satisfied,  and  then 
strolled  by  the  shore  of  the  pond.  They  stood  upon  the 
pebbled  beach,  looked  down  into  the  clear  water,  and  saw  a 
paradise  of  green  fields  and  woodlands  reflected  from  the 
depths,  and  the  white  lilies  floating  upon  the  surface. 

"  How  I  wish  I  had  a  lily,"  said  Linda. 

"  I  will  get  one  for  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  don't  go." 

But  Caleb  was  already  carrying  out  his  plans.  There  were 
mill  logs  resting  against  the  shore  and  he  was  laying  a  board 
across  two  of  them,  thus  making  a  raft. 

"  Oh,  don't  go  ;  you  will  get  drowned,"  said  Linda  again. 

"  No,  I  shan't.  I  ain't  afraid,"  he  replied.  He  was  think 
ing  how  delightful  it  would  be  to  see  the  fragrant  flowers 
in  her  hands,  to  hear  her  say,  "I  thank  you,"  to  see  the  light 
ing  up  of  her  eyes.  She  would  think  that  he  was  somebody, 
after  all,  notwithstanding  he  was  down  at  the  foot  of  his 
class,  and  made  a  botch  of  it  when  he  attempted  to  recite 
his  lessons. 

He  was  amid  the  lilies,  and  his  adventure  would  soon  be 
crowned  with  success.  He  pulled  them  up  one  by  one, 
reaching  his  bare  arm  down  into  the  water,  to  get  them  with 
as  long  stems  as  possible,  so  that  Linda  could  tie  them  round 
her  fair  neck  if  she  chose.  The  raft  was  slowly  separating.  Then 
the  logs  shot  out  suddenly  from  underneath  his  feet,  and  he 
went  down  into  the  water.  There  was  a  splash,  a  stifled  cry. 
There  were  strange  noises  in  his  ears.  He  tried  to  scream, 


60  Caleb  Krinkle, 

but  the  sound  came  up  in  bubbles.  He  struck  out  wildly 
with  his  arms,  thrust  his  hands  upwards  toward  the  sunshine, 
but  felt  himself  going  down  still  deeper.  He  touched  the 
bottom,  came  up  and  saw  the  sun  and  the  trees,  and  looked 
around  for  Linda,  but  she  was  not  there.  He  thought  he 
saw  her  running  away  as  fast  as  she  could  across  the  mead 
ow,  and  wondered  how  she  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  leave  him 
there  to  drown.  "  O  Linda,  how  can  you  !  I  was  getting 
them  for  you  !"  He  tried  to  call  her,  but  she  was  too  far 
away  to  hear  his  reproachful  cry.  The  water  was  in  his  eyes, 
his  ears  and  his  nostrils.  He  gasped  for  breath,  but  swal 
lowed  water  instead.  Oh,  the  agony  that  he  experienced  as 
he  thrust  up  his  hands  in  frantic  efforts  to  catch  the  unsub 
stantial  air  ! 

Down  again.  How  hard  it  was  to  clutch  at  nothing,  to 
feel  himself  going  down,  down,  farther  than  he  had  gone 
before!  but  reaching  the  bottom,  he  kicked  against  it  and 
rose  to  the  light  once  more. 

He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fields,  the  barn,  the  house, 
and  the  old  elm  in  front  of  it.  He  never  would  behold 
them  again ;  in  a  moment  the  scene  would  fade  from  his 
sight  forever.  There  was  the  village,  the  mill,  the  school- 
house,  the  meeting-house,  the  golden  hands  of  the  clock. 
He  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  Dan  Dishaway's  red  cart  and 
old  horse  standing  in  the  road  ;  or  was  it  memory  going  over 
all  the  past  ? 

And  now  the  ripples  only  chafed  the  shore ;  they  died 
away  and  the  water  was  calm  and  peaceful.  The  boy  and 
girl  that  tossed  their  hands  and  laughed  so  gleefully  were 
gone  from  the  picture.  The  struggle  was  ended.  Caleb 
could  see  the  lily  stems  running  up  to  the  surface,  and 
wondered  if  he  could  not  climb  them,  as  Jack  did  his  bean 
vine,  and  so  get  up  once  more  to  the  sunlight.  The  fishes 


Worth  Her  Weight  in  Gold.  61 

came  and  looked  at  him,  opening  their  curious  mouths. 
He  thought  that  one  was  making  fun  of  him,  and  looked 
like  Moses  Meek,  and  wondered  if  he  had  turned  to  a  fish. 
There  were  others  with  ghastly  faces,  like  those  upon  the 
stones  in  the  graveyard,  and  he  thought  of  that  Sunday  in 
the  long  ago  when  himself,  Randa,  Linda  and  Bell  ate  their 
gingerbread  on  the  grass-grown  mounds.  All  the  years 
passed  by.  He  was  in  the  school-house  at  the  foot  of  the 
class ;  now  he  marched  to  its  head  and  stood  by  the  side 
of  Linda  and  saw  her  smile  of  encouragement;  now  he 
was  listening  to  the  organ;  now  it  was  the  robins  saying 
"White  Hair!  White  Hair!"  now  it  was  the  bell,  and 
mourners  were  weeping  and  the  funeral  train  was  winding 
down  the  path,  and  he  seemed  to  go. 

Meanwhile,  Linda,  pale  and  tearful,  was  running  over  the 
green  meadows,  away  from  the  fearful  scene.  Never  be 
fore  had  her  feet  flown  so  swiftly.  Her  hat  was  gone  and 
her  hair  was  streaming  in  the  wind.  Once  she  fell,  and 
the  coarse  gravel  cut  her  fingers  and  bruised  the  palms  of 
her  hands,  but  she  did  not  heed  the  blood  that  oozed  from 
the  wounds.  Help  was  at  hand :  Dan  was  riding  down 
the  road. 

"  Dan  !  "  It  was  a  faint  cry,  and  Dan  was  listening  to 
the  bobolinks  and  did  not  hear  it. 

"  Dan  !  "  bur/*lhe  wheels  were  rattling  in  the  ruts  and  the 
words  did  not  come  to  him. 

"Dan!  Dan!  Dan!"  The  reins  tightened  and  his  old 
horse  came  to  an  instant  stand-still.  He  looked  up  and 
down  the  road  to  see  who  it  was  that  called,  and  did  not 
discover  Linda  running  toward  him  through  the  field  till 
he  heard  her  say,  — 

"O  Dan,  run  quick;  he's  drowning!" 

"Who  —  what  —  where?"   Dan  asked  in  a  breath. 


62  Caleb  Krinkk. 

"Caleb,  in  the  pond  !"  Her  strength  was  gone  ;  she  could 
say  no  more,  but  stood  panting  for  breath.  She  could  only 
point  to  the  pond. 

In  an  instant  Dan  is  away,  leaping  through  the  air.  He 
clears  at  a  bound  a  ditch  that  has  been  cut  through  the 
meadow,  places  one  hand  upon  the  topmost  rail  of  a  fence 
and  is  over  it  in  an  instant,  and  with  no  slackening  of  speed 
reaches  the  shore  of  the  pond.  No  ripple  disturbs  its  sur 
face.  Not  a  breath  of  air  mars  the  placid  beauty  of  the 
mirror.  The  circling  waves  that  rolled  from  the  spot 
where  White  Hair  disappeared  have  died  away  upon  the 
pebbled  beach,  and  there  is  not  even  a  bubble  to  mark  the 
spot. 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  !  Why  didn't  I  ask  Little  Maid  where 
it  was?  Haste  makes  waste.  Keep  cool,  Dan;  you've 
got  a  precious  job  on  hand.  Don't  loose  your  head." 

He  has  a  habit  of  talking  to  himself  aloud.  He  tears 
open  his  vest,  loosens  the  red  handkerchief  about  his  neck, 
fans  himself  with  his  hat,  as  he  stands  upon  the  bank  look 
ing  into  the  water.  "Where  could  he  have  gone  down?  '' 
He  discovers  footsteps  in  the  sand  and  follows  them 
round  a  shelving  point.  There  is  the  raft,  there  Ca 
leb's  palm-leaf  hat  with  its  blue  ribbon  floating  on  the 
water. 

"Down  in  there  somewhere,"  he  says  aloud,  kicking  off 
his  shoes,  dashing  his  hat  to  the  grouad  and  taking  off  his 
coat  and  vest.  The  water  is  shoal  near  the  shore,  but  at 
the  farther  edge  of  the  lily-pads  it  suddenly  deepens,  and 
there  are  stumps  and  water-logged  timbers  on  the  bottom 
that  have  been  lying  there  for  many  years.  There  is  no 
rock  above  the  surface  from  which  he  can  plunge  head 
foremost  and  go  down  with  the  momentum,  and  even  if  he 
could  do  so  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  beating  his  own 


Worth  Her   Weight  in  Gold.  63 

brains  out  against  the  sunken  timbers;  he  must  grope  his 
way  in  the  darkness  beneath.  He  wades  slowly  in.  The 
lily  stems  twine  about  his  legs  and  impede  his  way,  but  he 
makes  a  path  through  them. 

"  Now  for  it.  "  He  takes  in  a  great  draught  of  air,  ducks 
his  head  under  the  water,  struggles  a  moment  amid  the  thick 
stems,  then  works  his  way  down  —  down  —  down  to  the 
sunken  timbers.  It  is  dim  twilight  around  him.  He  can 
see  dark  objects,  —  logs  and  stumps.  The  gnarled  roots, 
twisted  and  intertwined,  bring  to  mind  a  nest  of  snakes  that 
he  once  discovered,  and  he  recalls  the  stories  he  has  read 
of  the  monsters  of  the  sea,  that  reach  up  their  arms  and 
seize  a  ship  by  its  rigging.  What  if  a  snake  were  to  attack 
him  !  What  if  he  were  to  get  his  feet  entangled  amid  the 
roots  ! 

"  Ah,  there  he  is !  "  He  reaches  the  dark  object,  but  finds 
it  a  shadow.  Thinks  again  that  he  sees  him  and  moves 
quickly  on,  to  find  it  only  a  root.  His  strength  is  going, 
and  he  must  rise.  He  comes  to  the  surface  and  feels  the 
warm  sunshine  on  his  face,  sees  the  exact  position  of  the 
raft,  and  then  goes  down  to  deeper  darkness,  and  strains 
his  eyes  to  catch  the  faintest  outlines  of  the  form  he 
wishes  to  discover.  He  sees  something  white.  He  swims 
towards  it.  God  be  praised  !  It  is  White  Hair, —  his  pale 
face  upturned  toward  the  light.  The  fishes  are  swimming 
around  him,  as  if  assembling  to  a  feast. 

Up  —  up  —  up,  with  his  precious  prize.  He  comes  to  the 
surface,  reaches  the  shore,  climbs  the  bank  and  sinks  upon 
the  ground.  His  strength  is  gone.  He  gasps  for  breath. 

"  This  won't  do,  Dan.     Shake  yourself,  old  fellow." 

He  springs  to  his  feet.  It  is  the  will  power,  —  the  ener 
gy  which  lies  behind  all  common  effort;  it  is  the  rising  of  the 
old  guard,  as  at  Waterloo,  that  wins  in  great  emergencies. 


64  Caleb  Krinkle. 

He  is  himself  again,  with  nerves  like  steel,  going  upon  the 
run  across  the  fields,  with  White  Hair  lying  limp  upon  his 
shoulder. 

There  is  a  great  commotion  in  Millbrook,  at  Captain 
Krinkle's,  at  the  hotel,  at  the  blacksmith's  shop.  Men, 
women  and  children  are  running,  and  Dr.  Mayweed, 
with  his  little  leather  trunk  in  his  hand,  down  the  road 
toward  White  Hair's  home. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  Is  he  dead  ? "  they  shout  to  Dan,  who  is 
approaching  the  house. 

"  Can't  say  ;  hot  blankets,  quick  !  " 

It  is  all  that  Dan  can  utter  as  he  gives  him  to  his  father's 
arms.  The  neighbors,  with  tearful  eyes,  catching  their 
breath,  wringing  their  hands,  are  crowding  around,  to  see 
the  cheeks  that  were  so  fresh  and  fair  now  so  pale  and 
wan.  His  lips  are  motionless,  his  eyes  are  dull  and  fixed. 

"Is  he  dead,  Doctor?" 

But  Dr.  Mayweed,  instead  of  answering,  gently  bids 
them  leave  the  room,  all  save  the  father  and  mother ;  and 
the  neighbors  as  they  go  out,  say  to  themselves,  "Just  so 
did  the  Great  Physician  when  he  raised  Jairus'  daughter." 

Deborah  and  the  neighbors  are  flying  here  and  there, 
heating  blankets,  doing  what  they  can,  running  at  every 
call  and  motion  of  the  doctor.  Randa  and  Bell  and  a 
troop  of  girls  are  gathered  around  Linda,  listening  with 
white  lips  and  fluttering  hearts  and  tearful  eyes  to  the 
terrible  story.  Oh,  if  they  could  only  do  something  to  help 
bring  him  to  life  ! 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do,"  said  Randa;  "we  can 
hold  a  prayer-meeting."  When  her  mother  wanted  any 
thing  she  asked  God  for  it,  and  why  should  not  they  ask  the 
good  Lord  to  bring  Caleb  back  to  life  again  !  Wouldn't 
he,  if  they  asked  him?  It  was  childhood's  simple  faith 


Worth  Her   Weight  hi   Gold.  65 

and  trust,  undisturbed  by  theological  doubts  or  scientific 
unbelief. 

"  We  will  go  out  into  the  garden,  under  the  pear  trees, 
where  the  old  folks  won't  see  us,"  said  Randa.  They 
could  trust  God,  but  not  the  grown  up  folks.  They  could 
say  the  Lord's  prayer,  for  they  said  it  every  morning  at 
school.  Beneath  the  trees  they  kneeled,  Randa,  priestess 
of  the  most  High  God,  leading  them.  After  "  deliver  us 
from  evil,"  she  said.  "  and  make  Caleb  well  again,  for 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  power  and  the  glory,  forever, 
Amen." 

It  is  all  dark  to  White  Hair.  He  is  in  terrible  pain,  but 
hears  voices  around  him.  Where  is  he?  Through  the 
dim  haze  that  fills  the  room  he  can  see  his  mother  bend 
ing  over  him.  His  father  is  there,  and  L)r.  Mayweed,  who 
opens  his  little  black  trunk,  letting  out  a  multitude  of 
imprisoned  smells.  He  looks  into  Caleb's  eyes,  feels  of 
his  wrist,  takes  out  his  old-fashioned  silver  watch  and  looks 
at  it  steadily  to  see  how  fast  it  ticks;  then  nods  his  head 
and  says,  as  if  talking  to  some  one  in  vacancy,  "  Doing 
nicely,  doing  nicely;  rest  and  quiet  and  a  soothing 
draught  will  bring  him  up  all  right.  Narrow  chance, 
though;  good,  brave  girl,  —  got  common  sense;  legged  it 
down  the  street  for  me  the  first  thing;  worth  her  weight  in 
gold. 

"Got  a  little  ducking,  didn't  you,  my  lad?"  he  says, 
turning  to  Caleb  with  a  kindly  smile  ;  and  adds,  "  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Linda  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
happened.  But  you  must  lie  still  now  and  rest  and  not 
try  to  talk."  He  puts  the  smells  into  prison  once  more 
and  goes  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Caleb  with  his  father 
and  mother. 

How  good  it  is  to  feel  his  mother's  hand  upon  his  brow  ! 

5 


66  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

The  words  of  Dr.  Mayweed  are  running  in  his  ears,  —  "If 
it  hadn't  been  for  Linda."  Then  she  didn't,  run  away  to 
leave  him  to  drown.  Blessed  Linda !  He  would  be  good 
to  her  forever. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    SPECTRE    THAT    APPEARED    TO    MR.    MEEK. 

r  I  ^HE  counting-room  in  Mr.  Meek's  store  was  a  small 
J_  apartment,  furnished  with  two  arm-chairs  that  had 
seen  long  service.  The  rounds  upon  which  the  occupants 
were  accustomed  to  put  their  feet  were  much  worn,  and 
trie  arms  and  posts  bore  evidence  of  having  been  whittled 
by  jack-knives.  An  empty  nail-keg  in  one  corner  served 
for  a  scat  when  there  were  more  persons  than  chairs  in 
the  room.  The  pine  table,  standing  where  the  light  from 
the  window  fell  directly  upon  it,  was  hacked  and  chipped 
on  the  edges,  as  if  some  one  had  been  whittling  it  to  kill 
time,  or  had  been  lost  in  thought  and  had  cut  it  unwittingly. 
The  rack  nailed  to  the  wall  above  the  table  was  filled  with 
old  day-books  and  journals,  and  the  pine  case  near  the 
window,  divided  into  compartments  and  pigeon  holes,  was 
crammed  with  papers,  bills  and  receipts,  yellow  with  smoke 
and  covered  with  dust.  Nails  and  pegs  weie  driven  into 
the  wooden  partition  between  the  counting-room  and  the 
store,  upon  which  Mr.  Meek  hung  his  hit  and  overcoat 
when  he  began  work  in  the  morning,  and  from  which  he 
took  down  his  linen  duster,  with  ink  spots  and  stains  upon 
its  skirts  and  sleeves. 

It  could  not  be  called  a  pleasant  room,  although  the  sun 
streamed  in  at  the  window  which  looked  toward  the  south. 

67 


68  Caleb  Krinkle. 

At  the  farther  end  were  trunks  and  boxes,  and  old  boots 
that  were  run  over  at  the  heels  and  were  out  at  the  toes. 
There  were  cobwebs  in  the  corners  and  dust  on  the 
papers.  Although  it  was  not  an  attractive  room,  it 
answered  Mr.  Meek's  purpose.  He  could  sit  there  and  go 
over  the  columns  of  figures  in  his  ledger,  examine  the 
papers  in  the  pigeon  holes,  while  his  cle-rks  were  attending 
to  customers  in  the  store,  and  if  he  wished  to  know  who 
was  there,  or  what  his  clerks  were  doing,  he  had  but  to 
pull  out  one  of  the  pegs  in  the  pine  partition  and  the  whole 
store  was  in  range  of  his  vision.  None  of  the  clerks,  not 
even  Mr.  Sharp,  the  head  salesman,  knew  that  Mr.  Meek 
could  bring  them  all  under  his  eye  in  a  twinkling  by  pull 
ing  out  the  peg  on  which  the  linen  duster  usually  hung. 
It  was  a  piece  of  strategy  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Meek,  which 
enabled  him  to  keep  track  of  a  great  many  things,  for,  by 
applying  his  ear  to  the  hole  he  could  hear  wh'af  his  clerks 
were  saying,  and  what  the  topic  of  conversation  might  be 
among  the  group  of  loungers  gathered  round  the  stove  on 
a  winter's  evening. 

Mr.  Meek  was  in  the  prime  of  life.  He  had  a  florid 
face,  very  white  teeth,  sandy  side  whiskers  and  red  hair, 
which  he  usually  brushed  in  the  morning,  but  not  unfre- 
quently  combed  with  his  fingers  during  the  day  when 
absorbed  in  thought.  He  had  a  gracious  way  of  saying 
"  Yes,  yes,"  to  pretty  much  all  anybody  said,  and  if  he  differed 
from  anyone  it  was  with  a  depreciation  of  his  own  opinion, 
as  if  whatever  he  might  think  of  the  matter  was  of  no 
possible  account.  If  he  did  not  reply,  "  Yes,  yes,"  there  was 
a  nodding  of  the  head,  as  if  he  would  say,  "  I  acquiesce  in 
all  your  statements." 

Mr.  Meek  lived  in  a  small  house  near  Captain  Krinkle's, 
into  which  he  moved  when  he  first  came  to  Millbrook. 


The  Spectre  that  appeared  to  Mr.   Meek.  69 

By  one  way  and  another,  by  cash  and  by  barter,  by  buying 
butter  and  eggs,  poultry  and  pelts,  by  looking  keenly  after 
profits,  by  steering  clear  of  loss,  gaining  a  little  here  and 
more  there,  by  accommodating  his  customers  if  they 
wanted  a  few  dollars  in  cash  to  help  themselves  round  a 
corner,  by  charging  interest,  or  by  saying,  "  Never  mind 
the  interest,"  if  it  was  for  his  interest  so  to  do,  by  knowing 
always  how  to  butter  his  bread,  he  had  raked  together 
quite  a  dust  heap.  In  the  heap  there  were  bonds,  mort 
gages,  stocks,  lands,  and  notes  of  hand.  He  was  not  satis 
fied  with  what  he  had  done  ;  it  was  only  a  drop  in  the 
bucket  as  to  what  he  intended  to  do. 

His  son  Moses,  being  his  only  child,  was  Mr.  Meek's 
idol.  The  idol  could  help  himself  to  raisins,  figs,  candy, 
nuts,  or  any  thing  else  that  pleased  him,  and  if  he  some 
times  turned  things  topsy-turvy  and  was  saucy  to  the  clerks, 
they  must  tpake  the  best  of  it.  If  he  played  off  any  of  his 
pranks  upon  unsuspecting  customers,  unhitching  their 
horses  upon  the  sly,  jumping  into  the  wagons  and  taking 
rides  up  and  down  the  street,  they  were  compelled  to  put 
up  with  it,  because  it  was  Mr.  Meek's  boy  that  did  it. 

"  He  is  a  little  Sancho,"  said  Dan  Dishaway,  comparing 
him  not  to  the  jolly  esquire  of  "  Don  Quixote,"  but  adopt 
ing  a  name  which  popularly  was  supposed  to  have  refer 
ence  to  the  father  of  all  mischief.  Moses  tied  a  thistle  to 
the  tail  of  Dan's  horse,  and  the  animal  went  up  the  street 
like  the  wind,  making  a  great  clattering  of  tin  pans,  and 
smashing  things  generally  when  he  turned  a  corner  and 
tipped  the  cart,  with  all  its  contents,  bottom  side  up  into 
the  ditch. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Dan,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  "  but  it  is  only  the 
Fourth  of  July  in  him  boiling  over.  I'll  pay  the  damage. 
But  didn't  the  old  horse  go  !  Why,  Dan,  I  had  no  idea 


70  Caleb  Krinkle. 

there  was  so  much  go  in  him  !  "  and  Mr.  Meek  laughed  as 
he  remembered  how  the  ungainly  animal  went  clashing 
through  the  street. 

"  Boys  will  be  boys,  you  know,  Dan.  I  reckon  Moses 
will  make  his  way  in  the  world.  He'll  come  out  all  right 
in  the  end,"  he  added. 

Mr.  Meek  planned  not  only  his  own  business,  but  laid 
plans  for  his  son.  He  intended  to  give  him  a  good  start 
in  the  world,  —  the  best  instruction  that  money  could 
secure  at  the  academy  and  the  college.  He  saw  him  tak 
ing  the  valedictory  at  Harvard  or  Yale  ;  saw  him  a  lawyer 
making  a  plea  at  the  bar  or  a  speech  in  Congress,  — 
holding  that  body  spell-bound  by  his  eloquence,  and  every 
body  from  Maine  to  Texas  reading  it  in  the  newspapers  ; 
saw  him  a  judge  or  minister  plenipotentiary  to  one  of  the 
great  powers  of  Europe.  Honor  and  fame  would  attend 
him,  and  would  be  reflected  back  from  the  son  to  the  father. 
For  such  a  son,  with  such  a  possible  future  before  him.  he 
would  labor  night  and  clay,  and  pile  the  dust-heap  so  high 
that  there  ntver  should  be  any  lack  of  money  to  make  his 
a  splendid  career. 

Mr.  Meek  sat  in  his  counting-room  alone  in  the  evening, 
going  over  the  accounts  in  his  ledger.  The  shutters  were 
up,  the  clerks  gone.  It  was  no  unusual  tiling  for  him  thus 
to  remain  late  into  the  night,  keeping  a  vigilent  eye  on  all 
the  transactions  of  those  who  worked  for  him,  upon  the 
debit  and  credit  side  of  all  who  traded  with  him. 

Although  the  sitting-room  at  home  was  a  pleasant  apart 
ment,  with  a  Brussels  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  a  lounge  where 
he  might  lie  and  look  at  the  pictures  on  the  walls  or  gaze 
into  the  coals  upon  the  hearth,  with  books  upon  the  table, 
and  although  Mrs.  Meek  was  sitting  there  with  no  one  to 
help  her  pass  the  time  away,  Mr.  Meek  preferred  to  stay  at 


The  Spectre  that  appeared  to  Mr.  Meek.  71 

the  store,  —  to  be  in  his  den,  with  the  spiders  looking  down 
upon  him  from  the  dark  and  dirty  corners.  He  was  more 
at  home  there  than  in  the  sitting-room,  and  the  company 
of  the  spiders  was  quite  as  enjoyable  as  the  presence  of 
Mrs.  Meek.  He  liked  to  look  at  them  when  they  were 
weaving  their  webs,  doing  it  so  ingeniously  and  adroitly, 
the  lines  running  in  every  direction,  with  a  den  down  in' 
a  corner  or  hole.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  the  flies  en 
tangling  themselves  in  the  meshes,  to  see  how  quickly  the 
spiders  ran  and  gave  them  a  little  nip  in  the  mpe  of  the 
neck  and  lashed  them  to  the  rigging  by  winding  a  rope 
around  them,  miking  them  secure,  and  then  picking  their 
bones.  And  Mr.  Meek  smiled  when  he  thought  of  himself 
as  sitting  in  his  den,  and  of  the  lines  he  had  stretched  out 
here  and  there,  and  of  the  way  he  was  roping  in  some 
unsuspecting  people;  but  the  uncomfortable  reflection  came 
to  Mr.  Meek  that  he  had  been  t.iken  in  by  Mrs.  Meek.  She 
WHS  fifteen  yea  sor  more  older  than  himself,  and  the  differ 
ence  in  their  ages  was  more  apparent  now  than  it  was  on 
the  day  of  their  marriage.  He  could  not  wink  out  of  sight 
the  fact  that  while  he  was  yet  a  young  man,  she  was 
getting  to  be  an  old  woman. 

A  spectre  followed  him  in  all  his  wanderings,  —  occu 
pied  a  scat  at  the  dinner-table,  and  made  itself  at  home 
in  his  chamber.  If  his  intention  had  been  to  get  money, 
hers  had  been  to  secure  a  husband.  If  he  had  concealed 
his  object  and  vowed  that  he  adored  her,  she  had  cov 
ered  up  her  years  by  ronge  and  hair-dye.  He  had  ex 
pected  a  fortune,  but  Mrs.  Meek's  father  had  handed  her 
over  to  him,  while  keeping  her  fortune  in  his  own  pocket. 
Upon  the  whole,  Mr.  Meek  could  not  resist  the  conclusion 
that  he  hiir.bJf  hail  been  taken  in.  There  was  no  love 
bet \\ocn  him  and  his  wife.  Happiness  in  married  life! 
He  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word. 


72  Caleb  Krinkle. 

There  came  an  evening  when  Mr.  Meek  looked  over  his 
drawers.  Among  the  many  old  letters,  he  came  upon  one 
which  he  had  read  before,  which  he  had  many  times  re 
solved  to  burn,  and  yet,  somehow,  he  could  not  quite  make 
up  his  mind  to  commit  it  to  the  flames.  He  knew  that 
every  line  upon  the  sheet  had  been  written  in  agony,  that 
tears,  welling  up  from  a  loving  heart,  had  fallen  thick  and 
fast  upon  the  page;  but  notwithstanding  all  that,  he  could 
not  see  it  disappear  in  ashes,  for,  like  a  talisman,  it  brought 
back  to  him  all  the  happiness  he  had  ever  known. 

As  the  concussion  of  a  cannon  fired  above  the  calm  sur 
face  of  a  lake  brings  up  the  dead  that  may  be  lying  be 
neath,  so  that  writing  brought  up  —  ah!  what  did  it  bring? 
A  dark-eyed  girl,  poor  in  purse,  but  endowed  with  a  wealth 
of  beauty,  who  had  given  him  all  her  love.  He  had  bowed 
down  before  her,  sworn  to  Heaven  that  he  loved  her,  that 
he  would  be  true  to  her  forever.  She  had  believed  him, 
trusted  him,  lingered  by  his  side  when  to  linger  was  a  sin. 
All  the  pure  wine  of  her  life  had  been  pressed  out  for  him, 
and  then  he  had  basely  deserted  her.  For  what?  For 
money  which  he  thought  would  come  from  a  rich  father-in- 
law,  but  had  obtained  only  a  wife  old  enough  to  be  his 
mother.  He  ground  his  teeth  together. 

''Curse  him!"  The  malediction  was  for  the  father-in- 
law,  and  Mr.  Meek,  as  he  uttered  it,  sprang  from  his  chair 
and  walked  up  and  clown  the  apartment  with  wrinkles  in 
his  brow  and  his  fists  firmly  clenched,  thinking  of  the  past, 
wondering  what  had  become  of  the  deserted  one,  and  of 
the  child,  which,  if  living,  might  call  him  father.  It  was 
not  remorse  that  disturbed  his  peace  of  mind,  nor  sense  of 
shame  that  mantled  his  cheek.  He  had  been  outwitted, 
had  been  cheated  in  a  trade,  had  a  portionless  wife  on  his 
hands,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  That  was  the  bitter 
ness. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW    RANDA    WENT    OVER    THE    RIVER. 

OTHER  teachers  beside  Miss  Hyssop  have  had  their 
patience  tried  by  roystering  boys  and  mischievous 
girls.     Other  teachers,  like  her,  have  been  at  a  loss  to  know 
what   to   do  with   them,  —  have   exhausted  invention  and 
folded   their   hands  in  despair.     If  Caleb  and  his  mates 
found  it  difficult  to  get  on  with  her,  she  had  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  get  on  with  them.     Being  sharp  and  angular  men 
tally  as  well   as  physically,  it  is  not  strange  that  when  all 
other  methods  failed  she  fell  back  on   the  counsel  of  the 
school  committee,  who  were  deeply  impressed  with  the  im 
portance  of  maintaining  law  and  order,  and  had  said  to 
her,  "Whack  it  into  them!     Whack  it  into  them!  "     So  it 
came  about  that  the  current  of  life  was  not  altogether  un 
ruffled,  as  Caleb  and  his  mates  discovered  to  their   sorrow 
at  times.     Law  and  order  was  a  comprehensive  term.      It 
was  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  by  rule  and  ferule.     Ca 
leb  could  not  see  how  it  was  possible  to  get  vulgar  frac 
tions  into  his  mind  when   there  was  so  much  fun   under 
neath  his  jacket  that  must  come  out.     Though  he  covered 
his  mouth  with  his  hands  to  keep  in  the  laughter,  it   ...... 

bled  out  now  and  then.     How  could  he  help  it  when  Bell 
and  Daisy,  for  the  fun  of  it,  changed  dresses  at  recess,  and 

73 


74  Caleb  Krinkk. 

Daisy  came  into  school  with  skirts  that  swept  the  flcor, 
while  Bell,  being  taller  by  six  inches,  displayed  that  much 
of  red  petticoat.  How  could  he  help  boiling  over  when 
Randa,  having  tied  the  lacings  of  her  boots  together,  could 
only  shuffle  her  feet  three  inches  at  a  time  when  called  in 
to  the  floor  to  recite  her  lesson?  But  Caleb  did  not  laugh 
when  Randa,  having  sat  down  on  a  bant  pin  which  Moses 
had  placed  in  her  scat,  jumped  up  again  with  a  little  scream 
that  set  all  the  school  to  giggling.  If  it  did  not  hurt  Ran 
da,  it  was  an  insult,  an:l  C.ile'j  resolved  he  would  let  Moses 
know  that  lie  could  not  play  such  pranks  upon  the  gi:ls 
with  impunity.  At  noon  C:ilcb  let  Moses  know  what  he 
thought  of  it  by  giving  him  a  clip  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
pulling  his  nose  and  giving  him  a  kick  when  he  turned  to 
run. 

"1'il  tell  Miss  Hyssop  of  you." 

"Tell  her  if  you  want  to." 

Moses  carried  out  his  threat,  and  Miss  Hyssop  gave  Ca 
leb  law  on  his  right  hand  and  order  on  his  lefr  till  they 
were  black  and  blue.  Randa's  eyes  filled  with  tears  when 
she  saw  him  suffering  punishment  for  her  sake,  but  behind 
the  tears  was  a  look  of  gladness.  Although  she  did  not 
say  "  I  thank  you,"  Caleb  could  see  that  she  respected  him 
for  hating  any  thing  that  was  mean. 

There  came  a  day  when  Randa  was  not  at  school. 

"A  black  mark  against  Miranda,"  said  Miss  Hyssop,  mak 
ing  a  large  black  mark  against  her  name.  Randa  was  so  in 
nocent  and  good  that  she  could  only  think  of  a  black  mark 
against  her  own  name,  never  against  anybody's  else,  as  im 
plying  moral  taint,  so  deep  that  no  subsequent  right  doing 
could  make  her  wholly  pure  as  before.  Even  if  she  were 
excused  and  the  marks  erased,  the  fact  that  they  had  been 
there  and  that  everybody  could  see  what  a  wicked  little  sin- 


How  Randa  ivsnt  over  the  River.  75 

ner  she  was,  became  the  one  bitter  drop  in  her  cup,  which 
otherwise  was  filled  with  happiness. 

The  forenoon  slipped  away  and  Randa  did  not  make 
her  appearance.  Linda  and  Bell  wondered  what  could 
have  happened  to  keep  her  at  home,  and  there  was  not  a 
scholar  in  the  room  that  did  not  miss  her  sunny  face.  If 
they  missed  her  in  the  school-room,  they  were  all  the  mere 
conscious  of  her  absence  when  recess  came,  for  Rar.da 
was  leader  in  all  ihcir  romps  and  games.  Half  their  en 
joyment  was  gone  because  she  was  not  there. 

As  Randa  was  not  present  in  the  afternoon,  another 
mark  was  put  against  her  name,  and  Miss  Hyssop  improved 
the  opportunity  to  deliver  a  brief  lecture  on  the  duty  of 
constant  attendance. 

"It  is  Miranda's  duty  to  attend  school.  She  has 
neglected  her  duty  and  that  is  wrong.  The  Bible  teaches 

O  J  O 

us  that  we  must  do  our  duty  always.  I  am  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  make  the  black  marks,  but  it  is  my  duty." 

The  vacant  seat,  the  absence  of  the  sunny  face,  the 
silence  when  it  came  Randa's  turn  to  recite,  made  it  a 
dismal  afternoon.  When  school  was  out,  Ball  and  Linda 
went  to  see  what  had  happened,  and  found  Randa  at  home 
with  a  bright  flush  on  her  face  and  i-ot  very  well. 

"  Did  Miss  Hyssop  set  down  any  black  marks  against 
me  ?  '' 

"  Yes,  and  I  hate  her.  She'd  no  business  to,"  Bell 
replied,  eager  to  make  it  easier  for  Randa  by  expressing 
her  dislike  to  Miss  Hyssop. 

"Yes,  she  had,  for  I  wasn't  there.'' 

Bell  and  Linda  did  what  they  could  to  comfort  her,  but 
Randa  could  not  forget  that  the  marks  were  against  her. 

She  was  no  better  when  Bell  and  Linda  called  for  her 
in  the  morning.  The  flush  was  deepening  on  her  cheeks 
and  her  face  and  hands  were  very  hot.  Dr.  Mir,  weed  had 


76  Caleb  Krinkle. 

been  in  to  see  her,  and  she  was  taking  medicine  that  left  a 
bad  taste  in  her  mouth.  Her  lips  were  dry  and  her 
tongue  parched,  and  she  was  burning  up  with  thirst. 

With  sad  hearts  Linda  and  Bell  left  Randa  in  her  cham 
ber  and  went  to  school,  and  it  was  a  sorrowful  group  that 
gathered  around  them.  Although  the  sun  was  shining 
brightly  and  the  birds  blithely  singing,  they  had  no  heart 
for  play.  How  could  there  be  any  pleasure  in  play,  when 
Randa,  who  always  led  them,  was  suffering  so  much? 

Miss  Hyssop  rubbed  out  the  marks,  but  all  the  school 
wished  she  had  not  made  them.  Jf  they  had  poor  lessons 
it  was  because  Randa  was  sick.  They  could  only  think  of 
her,  and  wish  they  could  do  something  for  her.  Bell,  to 
show  how  much  she  loved  her,  carried  up  all  her  dolls. 
Linda  brought  a  beautiful  bouquet,  while  Caleb  gathered 
the  ripest  strawberries  in  his  father's  field. 

The  days  passed  on,  gloomy  days  they  were,  with  no 
Randa  in  the  school-room. 

Dr.  Mayweed  was  sitting  in  her  chamber,  watching  her 
breathing  and  counting  the  quick  beating  of  her  pulse. 
There  were  wrinkles  in  his  brows,  such  as  always  came 
when  things  were  not  as  he  wanted  them  to  be. 

"  If  I  could  only  get  it  out,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  the 
wrinkles  growing  deeper.  And  because  he  was  not  able 
to  get  "  it  "  out,  the  sweet  young  life  was  burning  up.  Hi- 
said  it  that  the  father  and  mother  might  understand  that 
perhaps  Randa  was  going  away  from  them.  They  had 
feared  it  from  the  first,  and  had  prayed  the  Lord  to  spare 
her,  if  it  was  best  for  them  and  best  for  the  child. 

The  neighbors  came  to  care  for  her,  to  fan  cooling  breezes 
upon  her  cheeks,  to  give  her  a  drink  of  water,  wishing  that 
it  might  be  to  her  the  water  of  life,  —  hoping  against  hope  as 
they  saw  her  wasting  away. 


How  Randa  went  over  the  River.  77 

And  Randa,  the  while,  \vas  sorry  she  was  not  at  school,  and 
tried  to  make  an  excuse  to  Miss  Hyssop, — tried  to  tell  her 
why  she  failed  in  her  lesson,  why  she  whispered  to  White 
Hair  and  laughed  with  Linda. 

"Please  don't  put  the  black  mark  against  me." 

It  was  the  language  of  a  wandering  mind. 

"There  are  no  black  marks  against  you,  my  dear  child; 
you  are  not  at  school,  but  here  at  home  with  me,"  said  her 
mother. 

"  At  home  !     Ain't  I  at  school?  " 

"  No,  my  darling,"  and  the  mother  laid  her  hand  upon  the 
troubled  brow. 

"  But  the  black  marks  are  against  me." 

"  Miss  Hyssop  will  rub  them  all  out,  darling." 

"  She  can't  rub  'em  out,  for  there  is  a  great  book  that  God 
has  got  and  they  are  down  in  that." 

So  the  tender  conscience  transferred  the  little  misdeeds  of 
the  school-room  to  Heaven's  bar  of  justice.  If  she  had 
done  wrong  here,  it  must  be  wrong  there. 

"  But  Our  Father  will  rub  them  all  out  for  his  dear  Son's 
sake,"  said  the  mother. 

"  If  I  am  sorry  for  'em,  do  you  think  he  will?  " 

"  Yes,  my  child.  He  has  promised  to,  and  God  never  fails 
to  keep  his  promise." 

Her  eyes  are  fixed  in  earnest  gaze  upon  the  mother's  face. 
She  cannot  doubt  her  word,  and  the  troubled  soul,  weary 
with  carrying  its  burden,  so  little  and  yet  so  great,  lays  it 
down  confidingly  at  the  Saviour's  feet. 

Deeper  now  the  wrinkles  in  Doctor  Mayweed's  brow,  deep 
er  the  lines  of  care  on  the  mother's  face,  deeper  the  gloom 
in  the  father's  heart.  The  sun  is  going  down.  The  sights 
.  and  sounds  of  day  are  dying. 

In  the  hush  and  stillness  of  Randa's  chamber,  the  father, 


78  Caleb  Krinkle. 

the  mother,  the  doctor,  the  friends  who  stand  there,  can  hear 
the  mill-wheel  slowly  turning  in  the  stream,  for  the  miller  is 
grinding  a  grist.  They  hear  a  heavily-laden  team  rolling 
slowly  over  the  bridge,  —  the  tramp  of  the  horses'  feet, 
the  rumbling  of  the  wheels,  —  and  they  think  of  the  waters 
beneath  sweeping  on  to  the  fathomless  sea,  and  then  their 
thoughts  are  of  the  sweet  child  who  is  going  down  into  the 
dark  and  silent  river  of  death.  Above  them,  high  up  in  the 
sky,  they  hear  the  night  hawks  sadly  calling  to  their  mates. 
The  shadows  are  deepening  in  the  valley,  but  golden  the 
light  of  the  sun  upon  the  distant  mountains.  They  who 
have  watched  the  fading  life  till  their  hearts  are  wrung  with 
grief  and  who  turn  away  to  gaze  upon  the  glory,  see  a  hand 
ful  of  white  cloud  sail  away  and  vanish,  as  it  were,  into 
heaven.  So  will  the  dear  one  go,  —  white,  beautiful  and 
pure. 

Faint  and  feeble  now  her  breathing.  Slower  turns  the 
mill-wheel,  for  the  grinding  is  almost  done.  The  shadows 
are  creeping  up  the  valley  and  the  glory  fading  from  the 
mountains.  The  team  is  all  but  over  the  bridge.  And  now 
the  hawks  have  ceased  their  calling. 

"  Randa,  darling  ! " 

"Mother." 

Nothing  more. 

The  wheel  is  still,  the  grinding  ended,  the  team  across  the 
bridge  and  Randa  beyond  the  river. 

The  Sabbath  comes,  the  day  of  peace  and  rest. 

Out  from  the  chamber  they  bear  her,  young  men  carry 
ing  the  bier,  out  into  the  summer  air,  with  lilies  on  her 
bosom  and  a  white  rose  in  her  hand. 

"  Gone!"  It  is  the  bell !  With  trembling  lips  it  speaks, 
tolling  the  knell  and  not  the  passing  hour.  With  slow  and 


How  Randa  went  over  the  River.  79 

faltering  steps,  walking  blindly  by  the  bier,  the  stricken 
parents  hear  the  mournful  peal. 

'•'•Gone!"  Like  a  leaden  weight  it  falls  upon  the 
father's  heart.  Xo  more  will  he  enfold  her  in  his  arms,  or 
know  her  sweet  caressing,  or  feel  her  soft  lips  pressing  on 
his  cheek.  At  mid-day  it  is  night.  Trying  with  all  the 
strength  of  manhood  not  to  shed  a  tear,  he  walks,  as  in  a 
dream. 

"  Gone /"  On  him,  with  streaming  eyes,  the  mother 
leans.  In  pra\er  her  lips  are  moving,  "God  give  me 
strength  to  bear  it !  How  can  I  give  her  up? 

"  Gon<> .'  Her  pure  young  life  beguiled  the  hours. 
Oh,  weary  days !  Oh,  lonely  nights  !  Gone  all  the  hap 
piness  of  care  !  all  life's  sweet  pleasures  ended  !  Hence 
forth  her  steps  I  shall  not  hear.  Nor  will  there  be  an 
answer  to  my  calling.  But  I  shall  meet  her  yet  again,  — 
not  here,  but  there  !  " 

"Gom.'"  Hand  in  hand,  Bell  and  Linda,  Daisy  and 
Man-,  and  after  them  Caleb  and  Moses,  Job  and  Ben,  and 
all  the  school,  slowl,  along  the  pathway  moving.  With 
swelling  hearts  they  bear  her  through  the  church-yard 
gates. 

';  Gone .'"  Leaning  on  his  spade  the  gray-haired  sexton 
waits.  He  lifts  the  coffin-lid  ;  they  see  her  smiling  face, 
and  on  her  brow  the  light  of  Heaven !  So  will  she  look 
fore  verm  ore. 

!i  Gone!"  It  is  over.  They  drop  their  flowers  in  the 
grave  and  move  away,  the  bell  above  them  toiling.  So 
they  lay  her  down  to  sleep,  and  yet  they  do  not  think  of 
her  as  being  there,  but  as  having  gone  where  every  thing 
i.i  bright  and  beauiifal  and  pure. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   SPELLING-MATCH. 

WHITE  HAIR  and  his  mates  were  getting  on  in 
life.  Other  teachers  had  succeeded  Miss  Hys 
sop,  young  ladies  from  the  academy  and  young  gentlemen 
from  college.  Caleb  was  large  enough  to  lay  aside  his 
jacket  and  wear  a  coat.  He  wondered  if  Linda  would 
notice  how  nicely  his  hair  was  parted,  or  if  she  would 
observe  the  knot  of  his  necktie.  Now  and  then  he  took 
his  father's  shaving  apparatus  to  his  chamber  on  the  sly. 
shaved  off  the  down  upon  his  cheeks,  and  felt,  when  the 
operation  was  finished,  that  he  was  more  than  ever  a  man. 
He  could  but  notice,  too,  that  Linda  and  Bell.  Daisy  and 
Mary,  and  their  companions,  were  growing  taller ;  that 
they  were  taking  the  tucks  out  of  their  skirts.  They  no 
longer  played  the  romp  in  going  to  or  returning  from 
school,  but  walked  arm-in-arm  beneath  the  elms,  whisper 
ing  secrets  in  each  other's  ears.  How  sweet  the  music  of 
their  voices,  the  merry  laughter  that  floated  into  the 
school-room,  when  they  were  at  recess  !  How  it  would 
have  thrilled  Caleb  if  he  had  known  the  prizes  they  were 
winning  in  the  contest  for  sweethearts.  That  Bell  could 
run  fasier  and  jump  farther  than  any  of  her  mates  for 
Moses,  that  Linda  could  beat  them  all  when  White  Hair 
was  the  prize,  that  Daisy  could  outstrip  them  in  the  race 

80 


The  Spelling-Match.  81 

for  Ben,  and  Mary  for  Job,  was  a  delightful  but  inexplica 
ble  mystery.  Caleb  wondered,  when  they  came  back  to 
their  studies,  what  they  had  been  doing  to  give  such  fresh 
ness  to  their  cheeks,  such  brightness  to  their  laughing 
eyes,  not  knowing  that  they  had  been  breathing  a  perfume 
that  has  lost  none  of  its  fragrance  through  all  the  years 
that  have  rolled  away  since  Adam  and  Eve  walked  side  by 
side  through  the  shady  groves  of  Eden. 

Mr.  Kirk  was  now  their  teacher,  and  one  of  the  means 
employed  by  him  to  stimulate  them  to  intellectual  effort 
was  a  spelling-match  and  an  exhibition  of  their  oratorical 
ability. 

There  was  great  preparation.  Caleb  sat  up  late  at  night 
studying  the  dictionary.  He  no  longer  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  class,  but  had  moved  up  the  line.  All  Millbrook 
would  be  present  to  see  how  well  he  could  acquit  himself, 
and  he  would  do  his  best. 

The  evening  came,  and  with  it  their  parents  to  the 
school-house,  to  witness  the  contest.  The  throbbing  of 
their  hearts  was  like  the  drum-beat  before  a  battle. 

Linda  and  Moses  were  to  be  the  leaders.  Linda  selected 
Job  as  her  first  lieutenant.  Moses  surprised  everybody  by 
choosing  Bell.  There  were  many  of  her  mates  who  were 
her  superiors  in  spelling,  but  Moses  had  caught  the  bright 
gleam  of  her  witching  eyes  and  had  chosen  her  when  his 
judgment  prompted  him  to  select  Mary  Fielding. 

Caleb  wanted  Linda  to  win,  and  he  wished  to  be  on  her 
side,  but  knew  he  was  a  blunderer  and  might  do  her  more 
harm  than  good.  He  would  like  to  fight  for  her,  but  would 
he  not  help  her  more  by  being  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy  ? 
He  rejoiced  when  Linda  made  Mary  her  second  choice. 
Moses  selected  Ben.  Linda  then  looked  around  the  room 
and  did  not  seem  to  see  Caleb,  her  next  choice  falling  on 


la  Catifi  JtrinkU, 

Daisy.  Caleb  respected  her  judgment,  but  grew  red  in  the 
face  when  he  reflected  that  everybody  could  see  how  low 
he  stood  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  knew  him  best. 
It  is  the  consciousness  that  we  are  receiving  our  just 
deserts  that  sometimes  cuts  us  to  the  heart.  Linda  was  un 
wittingly  assigning  him  his  proper  place.  Others  still  were 
selected  and  his  name  was  not  called. 

"  Caleb.  Krinkle."  Linda  had  chosen  him  last  of  all  to  do 
what  he  could  for  her. 

The  ranks  were  complete  and  the  contest  began.  Mr. 
Kirk  'requested  Mr.  Makepeace,  the  lawyer,  to  direct  the 
spelling,  that  everybody  might  know  there  was  no  possible 
collusion  between  himself  and  either  party,  but  that  it  was 
to  be  a  royal  battle  and  that  the  victory  would  belong  to 
those  who  won  it. 

There  was  a  quick  thinning  out  of  the  ranks.  One  by 
one  they  went  down,  a  half-dozen  on  Moses'  side,  as  many 
more  on  Linda's,  and  Caleb  was  not  among  them.  His 
blood  was  up.  The  will,  for  the  moment,  was  master  of 
the  brain.  Bright  were  the  eyes  that  beamed  upon  him 
from  the  right  flank  of  the  army.  He  had  won  the  respect 
of  his  commander  in-chief,  and  that  is  every  thing  to  the 
private  soldier.  There  was  that  in  Linda's  manner  which  said 
to  him,  "  Pardon  me  for  choosing  you  last ;  I  thank  you 
for  what  you  have  already  done."  That  paid  him,  and  the 
very  rising  of  the  tide  of  good-will  among  the  lookers-on 
stimulated  him. 

Ben  was  down  on  Moses'  side,  but  Caleb  still  maintained 
his  place.  The  hours  spent  at  night  poring  over  the  hard 
words  in  the  dictionary  had  not  been  in  vain.  Daisy  dis 
appeared  from  Linda's  ranks,  and  then  Bell  was  suddenly 
discomfited  on  Moses'  side.  It  was  a  sad  blow  to  her ; 
the  smiles  fled  from  her  sunny  face  and  the  bright  flush 


"Die  Spelling-Match.  83 

faded  from  her  cheeks.  Moses  had  selected  her  to  fill  the 
place  of  honor,  but  now  he  looked  clown  upon  her  with 
flashing  eyes  and  a  contemptuous  curl  of  the  lip. 

Down  at  last.  Caleb  said  "ei"when  it  should  have 
been  "  ie."  It  might  have  comforted  him  a  little  if  he  had 
known  how  many  cf  us  have  found  that  same  dipthong  to 
be  in  reality  a  thong,  tripping  us  when  we  least  expected 
it.  But  he  had  fought  a  good  fight.  He  had  clone  what 
he  could,  had  done  it  well,  and  the  bright  eyes  thanked 
him  even  after  his  downfall.  Though  he  was  counted  out, 
there  was  a  buzz  of  appreciation  from  the  audience.  No 
matter  who  might  win  in  the  end,  he  had  achieved  a 
triumph  to  be  proud  of.  Moses  stood  alone  upon  the  other 
side.  Linda  and  her  first  lieutenant,  Job,  were  all  that 
remained  of  her  noble  army. 

And  now  it  was  a  contest  between  Job  and  Moses,  for 
Linda  had  missed  and  had  taken  her  seat,  —  rejoicing  that 
Job  was  still  left  to  win  the  victory.  Job  not  only  had  large 
hands,  thick  lips  and  big  ears,  but  he  was  laughed  at  for  his 
uncouth  manners  and  eccentric  ways.  Who  but  Job  would 
spend  the  entire  nooning  making  triangles  on  the  black 
board,  forgetting  to  eat  his  dinner  ?  Moses  had  nicknamed 
him  the  "  Old  Scrub." 

The  lookers-on  were  now  taking  sides,  one  party  hoping 
that  Moses,  who  had  such  a  fair  face  and  ruddy  countenance, 
would  win  the  day ;  the  other  party  feeling  sure  that  the  un 
gainly  but  quiet  and  self-possessed  fellow  who  seemed  so 
unconscious  of  all  that  was  taking  place,  would  come  off 
victorious. 

All  things  must  have  an  end.  Moses  hesitated,  fingered 
the  buttons  upon  his  vest,  gazed  around  the  room,  as  if  look 
ing  for  some  one  to  help  him,  missed,  and  took  his  seat. 
Job  spelled  the  word  and  stood  victor  of  the  hard-fought  field. 


84  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Caleb  clapped  his  hands,  and  all  of  the  little  boys  followed 
his  example,  and  so  contagious  was  their  enthusiasm  that  the 
audience  joined  in  and  gave  Job  a  grand  ovation. 

After  the  spelling  came  the  declamations  by  Ben,  Moses 
and  Job,  with  Caleb  last.  Caleb  had  rehearsed  his  piece 
at  home  to  the  cattle,  horses,  and  fowls  in  the  barn,  and 
the  hens  had  cackled  ihdr  admiral  ion  of  his  eloquence 
when  he  shouted  "  Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or 
perish,  I  give  my  heart  and  hand  to  this  measure.''  He 
knew  every  word,  and  could  rattle  it  off  as  glibly  as  the 
"  High  diddle  diddle  "  of  Mother  Goose. 

Caleb  was  stout  in  his  legs,  was  a  match  for  Moses,  or 
Job,  or  anybody  else  of  his  age,  in  running  and  jumping, 
but  there  came  a  sudden  weakness  injiis  knees  while  bow 
ing  to  the  great  crowd  of  which  he  was  the  centre.  His 
lips  were  parched,  his  throat  dry,  his  brain  in  a  whirl.  He 
could  think  of  "The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck,"  and 
'•  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age,"  but  not  a  word  of 
the  beginning  of  "  Sink  or  swim."  The  room  was  going 
round  as  if  the  building  and  everybody  in  it,  except  him 
self,  were  moving  in  a  circle.  He  put  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  took  them  out  again,  and  fingered  the  buttons  of 
his  vest.  He  was  as  speechless  as  a  statue.  He  heard  a 
titter  and  knew  that  it  came  from  Moses,  and  that  it  would 
ia  an  instant  run  round  the  room  like  a  train  of  powder. 
The  blood  rushed  from  his  heart  in  a  hot  wave  to  his  face. 
He  looked  around  to  'discern  one  sympathetic  face,  and 
saw  it,  —  Linda's.  It  was  a  look  that  said,  "  I  would  help 
you  if  I  could." 

Ah  !  the  sympathy  of  woman  !  It  has  saved  many  a 
soul  from  despair:  made  heroes  out  of  cowards.  There 
was  one  who  would  not  laugh  at  him  ;  for  her  sake  if  for 
nothing  else  he  would  not  fail. 


TJie  Spelling-Match.  85 

"  I  will!"  The  "I  wills  "  have  done  great  things  in  the 
world.  They  have  turned  the  tide  when  the  day  was  lost 
and  brought  victory  out  of  defeat.  The  thumping  that  had 
been  going  on  beneath  Caleb's  vest  suddenly  ceased ;  the 
room  and  everybody  in  it  became  stationary.  The  words 
came  to  him,  and  calmly,  distinctly,  forcibly,  he  uttered 
them.  Loud  and  long  the  cheers  when  he  stepped  from 
the  stage. 

"Well  clone,"  said  Mr.  Makepiece,  speaking  for  all.  It 
was  like  the  drinking  of  wine,  —  that  first  taste  of  public 
applause. 

The  contest  was  over,  and  the  people  were  on  their  way 
to  their  homes,  but  Caleb  and  his  mates  still  lingered  in 
the  school-room.  An  eventful  hour  had  come.  They  had 
discussed  its  coming,  and  had  mutually  agreed  to  acquit 
themselves  like  men. 

Caleb  had  thought,  during  the  day,  of  what  he  should 
say  to  Linda.  Of  course  it  was  to  be  Litida.  Choices 
had  come  of  their  own  accord  under  the  law  of  natural 
selection,  and  it  was  to  be  Moses  and  Bell,  Job  and  Mavy, 
Ben  and  Daisy.  Would  it  be  genteel  for  him  to  say,  "  Miss 
Fair,  shall  I  see  you  home?"  That  would  be  prosaic,  but 
it  was  brief  and  to  the  point.  Would  it  not  sound  better 
to  say,  "  Shall  I  have  the  honor  of  escorting  you  to  your 
father's  residence?"  But  that  was  rather  stately.  Caleb 
concluded  to  say  that  which  should  appear  to  be  most  ap 
propriate  when  the  time  arrived. 

The  young  gentlemen  went  out  and  stood  by  the  door, 
walking  here  and  there,  pulling  nervously  at  their  mittens, 
casting  eager  glances  now  and  then  to  the  lingering  group 
of  young  ladies  within  the  school-room.  They  could  see 
by  the  light  of  the  one  solitary  candle  that  Mr.  Kirk  was 
setting  things  to  rights  on  his  desk;  that  Linda,  Bell, 


86  Caleb  Krinkle, 

Daisy,  Mary  and  their  mates  were  putting  on  their  bonnets 
and  shawls.  It  took  them  a  great  while  to  do  it.  They 
could  hear  mysterious  whispers  and  smothered  laughs. 
Each  moment  seemed  an  age  to  Ben.  Though  the  even 
ing  air  was  mild,  he  felt  the  cold  chills  creeping  down  his 
back. 

"  How  cold  it  is  !  "  he  said. 

"  I  think  it  is  rather  warm,"  Caleb  replied. 
'  "  I  don't  believe   they  want  us  to  go  with  them,"  whis 
pered  Ben  confidentially  to  Caleb. 

Job  stood  unconcernedly  looking  up  to  the  moon,  as  if 
he  were  calculating  its  distance  from  the  earth,  instead  of 
patiently  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  Mary.  Moses 
stood  aloof,  kicking  his  heels  into  the  ground  as  if  grind 
ing  something  beneath  them. 

"  Moses  don't  like  to  think  that  he  is  defeated  and  he  is 
mad  because  you  led  off  in  the  applause,"  said  Ben. 

Caleb  made  no  reply;  he  was  listening  to  hear  what 
was  going  on  within. 

"  You  go  first,"  said  one. 

"No,  you." 

There  was  a  consultation,  a  close  grouping  of  heads.  The 
young  ladies  were  in  a  delightful  yet  trembling  state  of 
expectancy.  They  knew  that  as  the  wolf  walked  by  the 
side  of  Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  ready  to  eat  her  up,  so 
there  was  a  pack  of  wolves  waiting  for  them  by  the  door. 
Strange  the  mystery  of  love's  sweet  dawn  !  they  would  bj 
disappointed  if  the  young  wolves  were  to  run  away  and 
leave  them  to  go  home  alone. 

Mr.  Kirk  had  put  on  his  coat  and  was  ready  to  close 
the  house.  The  young  ladies  came,  —  not  one  by  one. 
but  together.  They  crossed  the  threshold.  Caleb  began 
to  think  over  what  he  should  say  to  Linda,  and  while  think 
ing,  heard  Moses  say,  "  Shall  I  see  you  home,  Li.icli? " 


T7ie  Spelling-Match.  87 

She  placed  her  arm  in  his  and  they  walked  away. 

He  saw  Job  sidle  awkwardly  toward  Mary,  and  Ben 
make  a  bow  to  Daisy. 

A  half  dozen  other  boys  offered  their  arms  to  as  many 
girls,  and  were  accepted.  Himself  and  Bell  were  left 
alone,  and  she  was  walking  slowly  along,  as  if  waiting  for 
him.  Then  Mr.  Kirk  stepped  quickly  forward,  and  Caleb 
heard  him  say,  "Shall  I  be  your  escort,  Bell?" 

They  were  gone.  Caleb  stood  alone,  trying  to  recall  his 
scattered  senses.  The  eventful  hour  had  come ;  it  had 
been  compressed  into  a  single  moment.  The  blissful 
dream  was  over.  He  could  hear  the  retreating  footsteps 
of  his  mates  growing  fainter  in  the  distance  ;  their  voices 
died  upon  the  air.  He  leaned  against  the  school-house 
and  meditated  upon  the  situation.  He  was  a  fool.  Ex- 
static  bliss  had  been  within  his  reach ;  he  could  have  had 
it  by  asking,  but  he  had  foolishly  allowed  Moses  to  snatch 
it  from  his  hands. 

Moses  knew  that  he  intended  to  go  with  Linda,  and  it 
was  therefore  a  premeditated  insult.  Why  did  he  not  go 
with  Bell,  as  he  had  intended?  Was  it  because  Bell  dis 
appointed  him  in  the  spelling-match?  Did  Moses  escort 
Linda  after  his  defeat,  to  let  her  know  that  he  was  a  gen 
tleman  ?  was  it  not  rather  to  be  avenged  for  the  applause 
which  had  been  given  over  his  defeat?  He  recollected 
what  Ben  had  whispered,  —  -'He's  mad  because  you  led 
off  in  the  applause." 

But  why  had  the  teacher  been  in  such  eager  haste  to  pick 
up  Bell?  What  right  had  he  to  step  down  from  his  high  po 
sition  ?  It  was  small  business  for  Mr.  Kirk.  And  Linda  ought 
to  have  known  better  than  to  have  gone  with  Moses.  She 
might  have  understood  that  Moses  did  not  care  two  straws 
for  her. 


88  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Passion  was  in  and  reason  was  out.  Reason  called  to  him, 
"  You  might  have  had  her  if  you  had  not  been  a  coward." 

He  was  in  no  mood  to  listen  to  such  an  upbraiding. 
There  are  not  many  of  us  who  can  bear  to  hear  the  truths 
which  reason  utters  sometimes  in  our  hours  of  disappoint 
ment. 

He  thought  of  Milton's  angels,  who  supposed  that  they 
were  sure  of  heaven,  and  suddenly  found  themselves  falling 
into  outer  darkness,  —  only  there  was  this  difference  :  they 
were  a  legion,  and  could  join  hands  in  their  hatred,  while  he 
was  alone. 

Caleb  waited  by  the  school-house,  listening  for  the  sound 
of  approaching  footsteps.  He  heard  them.  Moses  was  re 
turning,  flushed  with  his  successful  exploit  in  cutting  out 
Caleb,  and  proud  of  having  gone  home  with  Linda.  He 
had  rendered  her  a  delicate  attention,  seeing  that  he  had 
been  defeated  under  her  generalship.  But  the  applause  over 
his  defeat  was  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  Caleb  should  smart  for  what  he  had  done  in  starting  it, 
not  reflecting  that  it  was  a  compliment  to  Job. 

They  met  face  to  face  beneath  the  elms. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way,"  said  Moses. 

"  Perhaps  you  own  the  whole  sidewalk." 

"  Brave  fellow  !  Hadn't  pluck  enough  to  go  home  with  a 
girl!" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?  " 

"Get  out  of  my  way.  I  can't  stop  to  talk  with  a  puppy," 
said  Moses,  giving  Caleb  a  push. 

Caleb  gave  him  a  blow  in  the  face,  and  received  one  in  re 
turn.  Cuffs,  blows  and  kicks  followed  in  rapid  succession. 
Neither  cared  to  strike  at  arm's  length,  and  each  was  ready  to 
come  to  close  quarters,  to  take  quick  revenge.  A  moments 
breathing  and  they  grappled.  After  a  few  trials  of  strength 


The  Spelling- Match.  89 

they  fell  upon  the  ground,  rolling  over  and  over,  each  gain 
ing,  then  losing,  an  advantage.  Caleb  had  one  hand  upon 
Moses'  nose  and  he  felt  the  warm  blood  trickling  through  his 
fingers.  It  startled  him,  and  he  was  ready  to  relax  his  hold, 
but  his  own  scalp  was  being  lifted  from  his  head,  and  it  was 
no  time  to  be  merciful.  The  strife  went  on,  each  exerting 
his  utmost  strength.  Like  demons,  they  glared  in  each 
other's  faces,  but  with  a  sudden  and  desperate  effort  Caleb 
had  his  adversary  in  his  power.  He  planted  his  knees  upon 
the  breast  of  his  foe,  resting  a  moment  before  giving  the 
blows  that  would  make  it  a  lasting  victory. 

"  Let  me  up,"  said  Moses,  with  a  husky  voice. 

"  Not  till  I  have  taken  my  pay."  He  would  take  all  that 
was  due  him  and  a  good  deal  more.  He  would  have  inter 
est  for  all  the  insults,  slights  and  sneers  he  had  received  from 
Moses.  He  would  take  such  pay  that  from  that  time  onward 
and  forever  he  would  be  his  master. 

He  raised  his  arm  to  bring  down  his  clenched  fist  like  a 
hammer  upon  Moses'  face.  He  would  blacken  his  eyes, 
pound  his  cheeks  to  a  jelly,  and  knock  his  teeth  down  his 
throat. 

"Gone/" 

It  was  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell  tolling  the  hour,  and  as 
it  fell  upon  the  air,  memory  went  back  over  the  intervening 
years  to  that  mournful  day,  when,  with  flowers  in  one  hand 
and  Moses  clasping  the  other,  they  walked  together  with 
tearful  eyes  and  swelling  hearts  after  the  bier  that  was  bear 
ing  Randa  to  her  grave.  It  was  as  if  she  had  called  to  him 
from  heaven.  The  raised  arm  dropped.  Caleb  relaxed  his 
hold,  rose,  and  walked  away.  He  reached  his  home,  washed 
the  blood  from  his  face  and  hands,  and  crept  stealthily  up 
stairs  and  into  bed.  Sometimes  at  night,  when  he  was  not 
too  sleepy  or  tired,  he  had  repeated  the  prayer  taught  him 


go  Caleb  Krinkle. 

by  his  mother  in  childhood,  but  now  he  was  in  no  mood  to 
say  it,  and  was  half  provoked  with  himself  for  being  so 
chicken-hearted  when  he  had  Moses  in  his  power.  His  face 
was  swollen  and  his  head  was  aching  from  the  blows  that  he 
had  received.  Gradually  there  came  on  a  heart-ache,  harder 
to  be  borne.  As  if  to  reproach  him  with  her  calm  and 
peaceful  light,  the  moon  looked  in  upon  him.  The  winds 
were  sweeping  through  the  valley,  rustling  the  fallen  leaves. 
Like  them,  his  happiness  and  peace  of  mind  had  faded  and 
fallen.  Revenge  was  not  so  sweet  as  he  thought  it  would  be, 
and  the  victory  of  blood  was  not  so  grand  as  he  had  pictured 
it.  What  would  Linda  think  of  him?  How  could  lie  meet 
her  on  the  morrow?  Ho\v  could  he  ever  again  look  with 
steady  gaze  into  her  deep,  earnest,  truthful  eyes  ? 

The  shadows  lurking  in  the  room  became  accusing  spirits. 
He  could  hear  a  wailing  among  the  pines  in  the  pasture,  as  if 
a  company  of  angels  had  gathered  there  to  weep  over  his 
sin  and  shame.  At  times,  when  the  breezes  died  away,  he 
could  hear  the  water  murmuring  by  the  mill,  so  peacefully, 
that  it  reminded  him  of  the  beatitude  of  the  gospel, 
"  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God." 

But  his  heart  was  still  hot,  and  the  devil  within  him  changed 
the  angelic  whispers  into  the  sneer  and  titter  that  came  from 
Moses'  lips,  and  the  choir  went  back  into  heaven,  and  left 
him  to  himself,  to  toss  and  tumble,  to  his  headache  and 
heart-ache,  to  the  smell  of  blood,  to  the  turmoil  of  anger  and 
hatred,  and  a  hunger  for  revenge. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    LADY    IN    BLACK. 

THERE  came  a  passenger  in  the  stage  one  day  to  Mill- 
brook  :  a  lady  dressed  in  mourning,  with  a  thick  veil 
over  her  face.  Whether  she  was  young  or  in  the  middle  of 
life  her  fellow-passengers  could  not  say,  for  she  remained 
closely  veiled.  She  held  no  communication  with  any  one  in 
the  coach,  but  was  as  silent  as  a  nun.  That  she  had  a  sweet 
voice  every  one  could  testify,  for  they  heard  her  say  to  the 
landlord  of  the  "  Flying  Eagle,"  "  I  will  take  a  room,  if  you 
please." 

The  lady  did  not  sit  down  with  the  other  passengers  to 
dinner,  but  informed  the  landlord  that  she  would  rest  awhile 
and  then  take  a  lunch  in  her  own  room. 

The  servant-girl  who  carried  up  the  lunch  got  a  sight  of 
her  face  and  informed  the  clerk  that  she  was  very  beautiful, 
and  that  she  could  not  be  more  than  thirty-five  years  old. 
She  had  brown  hair,  arching  eyebrows,  blue  eyes,  very  white 
teeth,  and  was  pale  as  if  she  had  been  watching  by  a  sick 
bed. 

The  lady  sat  in  her  chamber  at  a  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  eating  her  dinner,  and  while  sitting  there  could  look  out 
of  the  front  window  and  see  the  sun  shining  upon  Mr.  Meek's 
sign.  She  could  look  into  the  store  through  the  open  door, 
and  see  the  clerks  behind  the  counter,  the  customers  in  front 

91 


9  2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

of  it,  and  Mr.  Meek  himself  sitting  in  the  counting-room  with 
his  account-books  before  him. 

The  lady,  having  finished  her  lunch,  went  down  from  her 
room,  with  her  veil  over  her  face,  as  when  she  arrived,  walked 
across  the  street  and  entered  the  store. 

"  Good-afternoon,  madam,"  said  the  head  clerk,  Mr.  Sharp. 
"  What  shall  we  show  you  to-day  ?  "  He  bowed  very  low 
before  her,  for  she  was  a  stranger  and  a  lady.  He  could  see 
that  by  her  deportment. 

"  If  Mr.  Meek  is  disengaged,  will  you  please  say  to  him 
that  I  would  like  to  see  him  a  moment?  " 

The  clerk  bowed  again,  stepped  into  the  counting-room 
and  spoke  to  Mr.  Meek,  who  rose  from  his  arm-chair,  came 
to  the  door,  bowed  politely,  as  he  always  did,  and  said,  "  Please 
step  this  way,  madam." 

He  bowed  again  as  she  entered  the  room,  bowed  once 
more  as  he  placed  a  chair  for  her,  and  as  she  wanted  to  see 
him  on  private  business,  —  money  matters,  he  concluded,  or 
something  for  him  to  look  after  at  Boston,  —  closed  the  door, 
and  bowed  again  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?  "  he  asked,  rubbing  his 
hands.  The  lady  lifted  her  veil  and  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

The  color  left  his  cheeks. 

"  Winifred  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  hope  you  are  well,  Mr.  Meek."  It  was  a  sweet,  sad 
voice. 

"What  —  what  are  you  here  for?"  he  asked,  stammering. 

"  I  was  travelling  this  way  and  thought  I  would  stop  and 
see  you,"  said  the  lady. 

Her  eyes  were  fastened  on  him,  —  searching  eyes  they  were. 

"  It  is  a  long  while  since  we  met ;  you  did  not  expect  to 
see  me,"  she  said. 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  he  replied. 


The  Lady  in  Black.  93 

She  saw  that  he  was  observant  of  her  dress,  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

"  You  are  in  mourning  for  some  one." 

"  Yes  :  do  you  wish  to  know  for  whom  ?  " 

There  was  a  nervous  movement  of  the  muscles  of  his  face, 
noticeable  at  times  when  he  was  excited. 

"  Is  your  child  dead?  " 

"Our  child  is  dead,"  was  the  reply.  Her  lips  quivered, 
but  the  words  were  spoken  firmly,  as  if  she  had  schooled  her 
self  for  the  interview. 

"What  was  the  child  to  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  know,"  she  replied,  "that  she  was  nothing  \.o  you, — 
you  who  promised  to  be  my  husband,  whom  I  trusted  and 
loved  better  than  my  own  life." 

Each  word  was  a  sting.  Mr.  Meek  turned  uneasily  in  his 
chair. 

"  And  now  you  have  come  to  dog  my  steps?"  he  said. 

"  You  have  jumped  at  a  conclusion,  Mr.  Meek ;  you  mis 
take  me.  I  have  not  come  here  for  any  such  purpose." 

He  started  at  the  words. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  have  been  quiet 
through  all  these  years  to  lift  my  hand  against  you  now?  I 
have  loved  you  too  well  for  that.  I  was  a  poor  girl,  but  you 
said  that  you  loved  me.  I  believed  you,  plighted  my  troth 
to  you,  and  you  gave  me  yours.  I  gave  up  honor,  self-re 
spect,  every  thing,  for  you.  I  filled  my  life  with  sorrow  and 
shame  for  you.  I  was  turned  away  from  my  father's  door 
because  of  my  love  for  you.  Through  all  the  years  that  have 
passed  I  have  loved  you,  and  do  you  think  I  would  harm  you 
now?" 

Mr.  Meek  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  No,  Mr.  Meek,  I  have  not  come  here  to  cross  your  path. 


94  Caleb  Krinkte. 

I  have  no  friend  in  the  world,  not  one.  After  I  had  shut 
myself  out  of  my  father's  house  and  out  of  all  other  homes,  you 
turned  away  from  me,  and  there  was  no  one  to  whom  I  could 
go.  I  could  have  had  friends,  —  those  who  would  have  made 
believe  they  were  friends,  —  who  would  have  dressed  me  in 
silks  and  satins,  given  me  a  richly-furnished  chamber,  and 
kept  a  carriage  for  me.  Men  have  bowed  down  before  me, 
rich  men,  honorable  men,  as  the  world  counts  them,  men 
with  wives  and  children,  but  when  I  plighted  my  love  to  you 
it  was  forever,  and  I  have  kept  my  promise." 

Mr.  Meek  groaned  in  spirit.  This  was  the  faithful  heart 
that  he  had  outraged ;  this  the  true  love  he  had  thrown  away 
for  the  sake  of  obtaining  money,  and  had  been  cheated  out 
of  it.  The  woman  before  him  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  and 
though  there  were  lines  of  sorrow  on  her  cheek,  there  be 
cause  he  had  done  her  such  a  grievous  wrong,  still  she  was 
queenly  in  her  beauty.  How  different  from  Mrs.  Meek,  who 
was  old,  gray-haired  and  wrinkled  !  He  cursed  his  folly,  — 
not  his  wickedness,  only  his  folly  and  imbecility.  He  rose 
from  his  chair,  stalked  across  the  room  with  clasped  hands, 
inwardly  cursing  himself. 

•'  O  Winifred  !"  he  said,  stopping  before  her,  "I  was  an 
idiot.  I  haven't  seen  a  single  hour  of  happiness  since  I 
turned  away  from  you.  It  was  cruel  in  me,  but  if  you  have 
suffered,  so  have  I.  My  house  has  been  a  hell.  But  if  you 
have  loved  me,  I  have  not  forgotten  you  through  all  these 
years,  and  to  see  you  now,  to  look  into  your  face,  to  hear 
your  voice,  brings  back  all  the  bliss  of  those  by-gone  days. 
Fool,  fool  that  I  was  !  " 

Dead  to  all  moral  perceptions,  Mr.  Meek  set  his  wrongs 
against  those  he  had  committed  against  this  woman,  and 
asked  her  to  pity  him. 

Inexplicable  the  mystery  of  woman's  love,  that  suffers  and 


The  Lady  in  /Hack,  95 

endures  alike  in  sin  and  in  purity,  in  shame  and  in  honor. 
Notwithstanding  all  that  this  woman  had  suffered  at  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Meek,  her  love  still  went  out  to  him.  He  was  a  mar 
ried  man  ;  she  had  no  moral  or  legal  right  to  come  to  him, 
but  love  and  passion  were  stronger  than  reason  and  con 
science.  When  he  said  that  through  all  the  years  his  home 
had  been  a  hell,  she  forgot  her  resentment  of  the  past,  forgot 
her  wrongs,  and  pitied  him. 

Mr.  Meek  walked  the  floor,  meditating.  He  took  down 
his  coat  from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  pulled  out  the  peg, 
and  peeped  through  the  hole  to  see  whether  his  clerks  were 
manifesting  any  curiosity  to  know  what  the  conversation  might 
be  about,  but  the  clerks  were  minding  their  own  business. 
He  came  and  took  her  by  the  hand,  as  he  often  had  done  in 
former  days. 

"  Forgive  me,  Winifred.  I  was  a  villain,  a  fool.  Go  to 
the  hotel  now,  but  take  the  stage  to-morrow  for  Boston.  I 
will  go  with  you,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  bright  gleam  in  her  eye  as  she  dropped  the 
heavy  crape  veil  over  her  face.  Mr.  Meek  opened  the  door, 
bowed  to  her  politely  as  she  passed  out,  and  said,  loud  enough 
for  all  the  clerks  and  customers  to  hear,  — 

"  I  shall  go  to  Boston  to-morrow,  madam,  and  it  will  give 
me  pleasure  to  attend  to  your  affairs." 

It  was  only  a  little  handful  of  dust  thrown  in  the  eyes  of 
his  clerks. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    WAYLAND    FAMILY. 

It  was  the  name  engraved  upon  a  silver 
door-plate  on  Beacon  street,  in  Boston.  The  milkman 
going  his  rounds  in  the  morning  was  sure  of  seeing  a 
white-haired  old  negro  rubbing  it  with  chalk  and  wash- 
leather.  Passers-by,  looking  in  through  the  open  door, 
saw  a  wide  hall  and  stairway,  a  library  on  one  side,  and 
parlor  and  sitting-room  connected  on  the  other.  The  rich 
damask  curtains  around  the  windows  were  gathered  in 
graceful  folds.  There  were  costly  carpets  on  the  floors, 
paintings  and  engravings  on  the  walls,  statuettes  on  the 
mantels.  Adjoining  the  mansion  was  a  coach-house  and 
a  stable. 

The  library  was  a  cheerful  room.  The  first  rays  of  the 
sun  in  the  morning  illumined  the  volumes  in  russet  and 
gold  upon  the  shelves. 

Mr.  Wayland  was  a  lover  of  books,  and  having  ample 
means,  lived  a  life  of  comparative  ease,  finding  his  enjoy 
ment  in  study,  and  in  caring  for  his  only  daughter.  Bertha. 
He  was  well  along  in  life, —  had  lived  a  bachelor  many 
years,  had  found  at  last  a  loving  wife,  who  for  a  few 
months  filled  his  house  with  brightness  and  then  passed 
out  of  the  world  when  Bertha  came  into  it.  After  the 

96 


TJie  Wayland  Family.  97 

death  of  liis  wife  the  gray  hairs  came  thick  and  fast;  the 
wrinkles  deepened  ;  the  things  that  had  chinned  him  lost 
their  power  to  charm  ;  hopes  that  had  animated  him  r.o 
longer  urged  him  on  to  make  new  ventures  with  his  ships 
upon  the  sea  or  his  merchandise  upon  the  land.  His 
great  care  was  for  Bertha,  who  was  the  image  of  her 
mother.  She  was  his  chief  joy.  In  the  morning,  when 
he  heard  her  footsteps  descending  the  stairs,  he  laid  down 
his  paper  and  stood  with  outspread  arms  to  clasp  her  to 
his  heart. 

When  the  morning  kiss  had  been  exchanged,  father  and 
daughter,  hand  in  hand,  went  through  the  long  hail  to  the 
breakfast-room,  where  they  were  sure  to  find  Aunt  Janet 
seated  at  the  table,  with  the  silver  coffee-urn  and  the  white 
porcelain  cups  on  a  waiter  before  her,  and  Peter,  the 
white-haired  negro,  standing  with  his  hand  on  Mr.  Way- 
land's  chair,  ready  to  serve  them. 

Aunt  Janet  P.irgie  was  Mr.  Wayland's  aunt  on  the  Porgie 
side.  She  had  taken  charge  of  Bertha  from  her  birth,  and 
looked  after  her  nephew's  household  affairs,  keeping  a 
vigilant  eye  upon  the  linen  in  the  presses,  the  silver  on  the 
sideboard,  and  the  servants  in  the  kitchen,  and  upon  a 
number  of  widows  and  rriaiden  ladies  who  were  accus 
tomed  to  call  quite  often  at  the  Wayland  mansion.  In  her 
opinion  they  needed  looking  after  quite  as  much  as  the 
servants,  for  if  a  second  Mrs.  Wayland  should  happen  to 
come  into  the  establishment  she  would  be  under  the 
necessity  of  moving  out  of  it  and  resigning  her  charge  of 
Bertha.  She  had  mapped  out  a  brilliant  future  for  her 
ward,  and  was  determined  so  to  manage  things  that  Bertha 
should  be  the  one  star  brighter  than  all  others  in  society. 

The  Porgie  family  could  trace  its  pedigree  back  to  Sir 
Philip  Porgie,  who  was  made  Sir  Philip  for  something  or 
7 


98  Caleb  Krinkle. 

other  when  the'  Normans  were  putting  England  beneath 
their  feet.  Succeeding  generations  had  given  additional 
lustre  to  the  name. 

Alliance  with  worthy  names  of  the  past  was  something 
to  be  proud  of,  in  Aunt  Janet's  estimation.  The  Porgie 
coat  of  arms,  with  a  unicorn  rampant  and  a  lion  couch  ant, 
in  a  gilt  frame,  adorned  the  walls  of  Aunt  Janet's  cham 
ber;  the  Porgie  branch  of  the  genealogical  tree  running 
down  through  twig,  branch,  limb  and  trunk  to  the  tap  root, 
old  Sir  Philip. 

Having  an  exalted  opinion  of  the  Porgie  family,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Aunt  Janet  presided  with 
dignity  at  the  coffee-urn,  and  also  in  the  parlor  when  en 
tertaining  visitors.  She  was  tall,  robust  and  queenly  in 
her  appearance,  with  gray  hair,  a  florid  countenance,  and 
brightly  flashing  eyes.  Her  voice  was  musical,  her  words 
were  clearly  enunciated,  and  her  sentences  well  chosen. 

She  had  found  time  to  acquire  the  French,  German  and 
Italian  languages,  and  her  range  of  reading  had  been 
sufficiently  wide  to  enable  her  to  converse  sensibly  and 
intelligently  with  those  who  had  attained  eminence  in 
literature,  science  and  art.  It  was  her  delight  to  entertain 
visitors  and  be  entertained  by  them;  and  there  was  always 
a  spare  seat  at  the  table  for  a  professor,  a  doctor,  an 
artist,  an  author,  or  any  distinguished  somebody,  who  had 
made  his  mark  and  was  worthy  of  being  patronized.  No 
reception  or  party  at  the  West  End  was  complete  if  Miss 
Porgie  was  absent.  Her  presence  gave  dignity  and  grace 
to  every  entertainment. 

The  servants  in  the  Wayland  establishment  felt  that 
they  were  serving  a  queen,  and  looked  down  contemptu 
ously  from  the  back  door  upon  their  fellow-servants  in  the 
neighboring  kitchens.  The  portly  coachman,  silting  erect 


The  Way  land  Family,  99 

upon  his  seat,  wearing  his  drab  overcoat  with  its  three 
capes,  his  cockade  and  gauntlets,  and  driving  a  superb 
span  of  horses,  had  only  patronizing  nods  for  his  most 
intimate  fellow-coachman  when  carrying  Aunt  Janet 
through  Beacon  street  out  to  Longwood  and  Brookline, 
and  homeward  by  the  colleges  in  Cambridge. 

Peter,  the  white  haired  negro,  was  an  important  person 
age  in  the  Wayland  mansion,  at  least  in  his  own  estima 
tion.  He  was  courtly  and  dignified  in  his  bearing.  To 
his  own  sense  of  what  was  right  and  proper  he  added  the 
Porgie  dignity.  He  profoundly  believed  that  there  was 
not  in  all  Boston  a  lady  superior  to  Aunt  Janet,  or  a  gen 
tleman  so  learned  as  Mr.  Wayland,  or  a  miss  the  equal  of 
Bertha.  Peter's  advantages  for  obtaining  an  education 
had  been  exceedingly  limited,  but  it  was  a  pleasure  to  him 
to  look  upon  the  books  in  the  library;  to  see  the  morning 
sunlight  illuminating  the  rich  bindings;  to  take  down  the 
volumes  and  pore  over  the  contents.  By  moving  his 
finger  along  the  lines,  by  spelling  the  long  words,  he  could 
make  his  way  slowly  down  the  page  of  the  dictionary, 
which  was  his  favorite  volume.  The  longest  and  hardest 
words  had  a  charm  for  him,  and  there  was  a  pleasure  in 
being  able  to  give  his  admiring  acquaintances  the  benefit 
of  the  knowledge  obtained  by  a  perusal  of  its  contents. 
If  he  sometimes  used  a  long  word  where  a  short  one 
would  quite  as  well  express  his  meaning,  or  if  he  now  and 
then  gave  utterance  to  a  word  not  to  be  found  in  any  lexi 
con,  it  was  to  let  them  know  that  life  within  the  Wayland 
mansion  was  on  a  higher  plane  than  that  occupied  by  ordi 
nary  individuals. 

Of  all  the  gentlemen  of  color  attending  church, 
there  was  not  one  who  walked  up  the  aisle  with  greater 
dignity  than  Peter.  If  one  of  his  fellow-servants,  before 


ioo  Caleb  Krinkle. 

or  after  service,  insinuated  that  he  was  putting  on  too 
many  airs,  there  was  quick  resentment,  for  not  on'y  his 
own  dignity  but  the  Way  land  honor  was  to  be  defended. 

"None  of  your  insinuendoes,  sah,  if  you  please;  and 
allow  me  to  say  that  you  would  be  putrificcl  with  amaze 
ment,  sah,  if  you  were  to  see  de  way  we  do  things  at  our 
house,  sah." 

Peter's  dignified  bearing  always  gave  emphasis  to  his 
words. 

Aunt  Janet  had  so  many  calls  to  make  during  the  day, 
so  many  It-ctures,  concerts  and  parties  to  attend  during  the 
evenings,  so  many  spinsters  and  widows  to  keep  her  eyes 
on,  that  Bertha's  education  was  intrusted  to  a  governess. 
But  the  time  had  come  when  she  must  have  instruction  in 
advance  of  that  given  by  a  governess.  Mr.  Wayland 
introduced  ihe  subject  at  the-  breakfast-table.  Bertha  had 
eaten  her  breakfast  and  was  out  upon  the  Common  feeding 
the  sp  UTONVS. 

"  V\  hat  shall  we  do  v.ith  her?"  Mr.  Wayland  asked. 

'  i  have  been  thinking  the  matter  over,  and  have  come 
t>  the  conclusion  that  Miss  Posey's  school  in  New  York 
will  be  just  the  place  for  her  to  obtain  a  finished  educa 
tion,"  said  Aunt  Janet. 

'•What  are  the  advantages  of  that  institution  ? " 

"It  is  very  genteel  and  select." 

Aunt  Janet  did  not  think  it  wise  to  say  that  it  was  a 
fashionable  school,  knowing  that  Mr.  Wayland  was  dis 
posed  to  turn  up  his  nose  at  fashion. 

"  What  is  the  course  of  instruction  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  Miss  Posey's  catalogue  here,"  said  Aunt  Janet, 
proceeding  to  read  the  names  of  the  professors  and  teach 
ers  and  the  branches  taught  by  them,' — of  la-gmg?, 
Latin,  Greek,  German,  French,  Spanish  and  Italian;  cf 


The  IVayland  Family.  101 

philosophy,  mental  and  moral ;  of  science,  chemistry, geolo 
gy,  astronomy,  botany,  metaphysics  ;  of  accomplishments, 
instruction  on  the  piano,  guitar,  harp,  vocal  music,  painting 
in  oil  and  water  colors,  drawing,  needlework,  dancing,  and 
the  art  of  being  polite. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  Mr.  Wayland  asked,  when  Aunt  Janet 
had  gone  over  the  long  array  of  names,  of  th<j  teachers 
employed  and  text-books  used. 

"  I  should  think  that  was  sufficient,"  she  replied,  piqued 
at  the  question. 

"  Pardon  me,  aunty  ;  I  did  not  intend  any  thing  deroga 
tory  ;  it  only  occurred  to  me  that  mathematics,  geography, 
grammar,  reading,  writing,  history,  —  the  fundamentals,  as 
\ve  used  to  call  them,  —  were  left  out." 

"  Oh,  they  are  taught,  of  course !"  said  Aunt  Janet,  with 
a  little  impatience. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  rather  stupid,  but  you  see  it  was  a 
natural  inquiry,  considering  that  I  have  considerable  to  do 
with  accounts  at  the  store." 

"Don't  you  think,  my  dear  nephew,  that  it  is  a  splendid 
array  of  names  ?  " 

"Certainly;  but  rather  too  splendid,  according  to  my 
notions."  Mr.  Wayland  stopped  to  drink  his  coffee. 

'•I  don't  understand  you,"  saicl  Aunt  Janet. 

"  Well,  aunty,  now  that  the  question  must  be  settled  as 
to  what  we  shall  do  with  Bertha,  let  us  look  it  in  the  face. 
There  are  private  schools  in  this  city  and  in  New  York, 
which,  I  dare  say,  are  very  good,  but  I  don't  think  Miss 
Pokey's  is  the  place  for  her." 

"  Whv  not,  please  ?  " 

"  Miss  1'osey,  I  notice,"  he  replied,  after  looking  at  the 
catalogue,  ''does  not  give  a  course  cf  study,  but  as  young 
ladies  are  usually  in  society  when  they  are  eighteen  or 


IO2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

thereabouts,  it  is  evident  that  she  does  not  expect  mem 
to  stay  with  her  more  than  two,  or  at  the  most,  three 
years.  Now  she  would  have  us  understand  that  she  can 
take  a  girl  who  has  gone  through  division,  and  who,  pos 
sibly,  may  know  the  nine  parts  of  speech,  and  in  that  time 
carry  her  through  a  curriculum  which  embraces  not  only 
what  every  well-informed  person  must  have,  a  good  Eng 
lish  education,  but  a  knowledge  of  the  ancient  and  mod 
ern  languages,  nearly  all  the  sciences,  and  the  accomplish 
ments  besides.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  more  time  is 
given  to  the  accomplishments  than  to  any  thing  else. 
Miss  Posey  ought  to  add  several  other  branches  to 
make  her  course  of  study  complete." 

"What  others,  please  ?  " 

"  Hebrew,  Sanscrit,  Chinese  and  Choctaw,  differential 
calculus  and  political  economy." 

"  Now,  John  Wayland,  just  stop  being  ironical.  Miss 
Posey  keeps  a  school  where  any  young  lady  who  is  des 
tined  to  shine  in  society  can  get  a  finished  education." 

"  Too  much  finish.  It  is  veneering,  varnish,  polish 
and  shine." 

In  his  long  business  career  Mr.  Wayland  had  come  to 
estimate  things  at  their  value,  and  was  generally  sharp  and 
curt  in  his  discussions. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  put  Bertha  into  the  public  schools, 
where  there  isn't  any  polish  ?  " 

"I'm  not  sure  but  it  would  be  well." 

It  was  a  provoking  reply. 

"  And  let  her  mix  with  the  rag-a-muffins  ?  " 

"  Oh,  so  far  as  mixing  with  the  rag-a-muffins,  as  you  call 
them,  is  concerned,  I  shouldn't  mind  it !  I  don't  think  that 
they  would  harm  Bertha." 

"  What !  have  her  shut  up  all  day  with    those   horrid 


The  Wayland  Family.  103 

creatures  that  sleep  in  cellars  and  garrets,  and  go  in  rags, 
and  don't  have  their  hair  combed  from  January  to  Decem 
ber  !  John  Wayland,  are  you  crazy  ?  " 

Mr.  Wayland  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  indulged  in 
a  hearty  laugh  at  the  energy  with  which  the  words  were 
spoken. 

"It  is  no  laughing  matter,"  said  Aunt  Janet,  discomposed 
at  the  moment.  "I  am  sure  I  have  had  the  good  of 
Bertha  at  heart." 

"  That's  so,  aunty.  I  know  you  have.  I  beg  pardon 
for  laughing,  but,  really,  I  couldn't  help  it.  You  know 
that  I  like  to  see  you  stirred  up  once  in  a  while ;  it  is  as 
good  as  a  play.  But  now  about  Bertha.  Even  if  she 
were  to  mix  with  children  who  sleep  in  cellars  and  garrets, 
and  who  are  not  so  clean  as  they  might  be,  I  don't  think 
that  any  moral  contamination  would  come  to  her.  Bertha 
i^  a  positive  character.  She  has  her  own  ways  of  doing 
things.  She  has  a  sweet  disposition,  and  is  so  pure  that 
evil  would  roll  off  from  her  as  the  rain-drops  roll  from  the 
corn-leaves.  But  I  have  no  intention  of  sending  her  to  one 
of  the  public  schools,  where  every  thing  goes  by  rule,  and 
where  the  teachers  are  trying  to  get  on  themselves  by  push 
ing  on  their  pupils.  I  don't  care  to  have  Bertha  come  home 
at  night  with  an  aching  head,  with  a  satchel  full  of  books, 
and  ten  pages  of  one  thing,  fifteen  of  another  and  twenty 
of  a  third  to  memorise  before  morning.  In  Miss  Posey's 
school  it  is  varnish  and  polish ;  in  the  public  schools  it  is 
push  and  cram.  Cram  is  all  very  well  for  an  editor,  who 
wants  an  article  that  will  be  run  over  at  breakfast  and  used 
for  kindling  the  fire  the  next  morning,  but  the  foundation 
for  a  thorough  education  can't  be  laid  on  cram,  any  more 
than  the  foundations  of  houses  can  be  laid  on  soft  mud. 
I  don't  want  Bertha's  mind  to  become  like  a  sponge,  tak- 


104  Caleb  Krinktet 

ing  itself  full  of  water  one  minute  and  having  it  squeezed 
out  the  next,  to  remain  as  dry  as  at  the  beginning  but  that 
is  the  natural,  sequence  of  cram.  I  don't  want  to  see  her 
flat  on  her  back  with  a  crooked  spine,  or  if  not  that, 
turning  and  tumbling  through  sleepless  nights,  with  nerves 
unstrung  from  over-pushing  on  the  part  of  ambitious 
teachers." 

"But  what  will  you  do  with  her?"  asked  Aunt  Janet,  who 
was  glad  to  see  that  Mr.  Wayland  had  no  intention  of  having 
Bertha  mix  with  the  children  of  the  public  schools. 

"  I  have  about  made  up  my  mind  to  send  her  to  the 
school  where  I  fitted  for  college,  —  Hilltown  Academy." 

"Send  her  to  that  old-fashioned,  out-of-ths-way,  countri 
fied  establishment?  What  are  you  thinking  of?" 

"  I  am  thinking  that  she  will  get  a  solid  education  and  will 
be  taught  to  think." 

"  And  have  milkmaids  who  smell  of  the  barn,  and  clod 
hoppers  who  drive  steers  and  shovel  dirt,  for  her  associates  !" 

"  Dirt,  you  know,  as  the  philosophers  say,  is  only  matter  in 
the  wrong  place  ;  and  as  to  the  greenhorns,  who  put  it  in  the 
right  place,  some  of  them  are  pretty  good  fellows.  Perhaps 
I  never  told  you,  aunty,  that  I  shovelled  muck  in  my  boy 
hood,  and  held  the  plough,  and  swung  the  scythe.  I  have 
worn  a  blue  smock  frock,  and  been  to  bed  many  a  night  with 
blistered  hands,  and  I  never  have  been  able  to  discern  that 
any  moral  contamination  came  of  it ;  and  as  to  the  milk 
maids,  my  mother,  you  remember,  belonged  to  that  order  in 
her  girlhood.  You  will  not  think  it  strange  if  under  the  cir 
cumstances  I  do  not  have  any  great  horror  of  milkmaids." 

"  Seriously  now,  John,  you  don't  intend  to  send  Bertha  to 
that  school?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  differ  with  you,  aunty,  as  to  what  is  best  for 
her,  but,  seriously,  that  is  my  intention." 


Tfie   Way  land  Family.  105 

"Well,  John  Wayland,  I  must  say  that  I  am  surprised. 
Sister  Ann  Porgie  is  right,  after  all ;  she,  and  all  my  friends 
on  the  Porgie  side,  say  that  you  are  an  odd  stick." 

"  I  expect  it  is  so,  though  I  never  have  been  able  to  get  at 
a  satisfactory  meaning  of  that  term.  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion,  however,  that  there  are  several  classes  of  odd- 
sticks.  A  person  who  departs  in  any  considerable  degree 
from  notions  of  what  society  thinks  is  proper,  is  an  odd 
stick.  The  woman  who  goes  into  society  with  a  dress  that 
does  not  sweep  the  fl:>Dr  is  looked  upon  by  those  who  wear 
long  trails  as  one  of  the  odd  sticks.  The  young  lady  who 
has  the  courage  to  appear  in  the  fashionable  world  pretty 
much  as  the  Lord  made  her,  so  far  as  humps  and  hollows  are 
concerned,  with  no  deceptive  mechanism  of  springs  and 
wires,  is  an  odd  stick.  The  girl  who  doesn't  spend  her  time  in 
flirting,  and  who,  instead  of  dancing  all  night,  goes  to  bed  at  a 
sensible  hour,  is  an  odd  stick.  I  wish  that  there  were  more 
odd  sticks  in  the  world.  There  wouldn't  be  such  a  faded- 
out  set  of  girls  as  we  now  have,  with  no  vitality  or  energy. 
The  Upper  Crust,  as  we  call  ourselves,  is  getting  rather  thin. 
What  is  going  to  become  of  us  a  generation  or  two  hence  ? 
O.ir  girls  have  no  more  stamina  than  potato  sprouts  that  grow 
in  a  cellar.  Now  I  don't  propose  to  have  Bertha  go  to  a 
school  where  she  will  have  to  dress  in  silk  all  the  time.  I 
want  her  to  go  where  she  can  have  a  romp  in  the  fields  now 
and  then,  and  where  she  will  obtain  the  foundations  for  a 
strong  and  healthy  womanhood." 

"John,  I  think  that  you  had  better  give  up  selling  gunny 
bags  and  jute  and  take  up  preaching." 

"  And  be  the  apostle  of  the  odd  sticks?"  he  replied,  laugh 
ing. 

"Well,  Bertha,  what  do  you  say?"  said  Mr.  Wayland,  ad 
dressing  Bertha,  who  came  in  at  the  moment.  "  Would  you 


106  Caleb  Krinkle. 

rather  go  to  Miss  Posey's  school  in  New  York,  where  you 
can  become  a  finished  young  lady  in  three  years,  and  be  as 
wise  as  Solomon  with  the  smattering  you  will  have  of  every 
thing  under  the  sun,  or  would  you  rather  go  to  the  plain,  old- 
fashioned,  substantial  school  in  the  country  where  I  fitted  for 
college?" 

"  I  want  to  go,  father,  where  you  think  it  best  for  me  to  go, 
but  I  think  that  I  should  like  in  the  country  better  than  at 
Miss  Posey's." 

"  Why,  my  darling?  " 

"  Because  there  would  be  flowers  and  sheep  and  cows  and 
birds  and  trees  and  brooks  in  the  country." 

"  You  have  left  out  clodhoppers,"  said  Aunt  Janet,  with  ill- 
concealed  impatience  at  such  a  manifestation  of  depraved 
taste  on  the  part  of  Bertha,  but  more  particularly  because 
she  saw  her  own  plans  were  to  be  upset. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  intend  that  your  wish  shall  be  gratified. 
I  think  it  will  be  better  in  every  respect  that  you  should  not 
be  finished  in  three  years  at  Miss  Posey's." 

"  If  she  goes  to  that  out-of-the-way  place,  she  never  will 
be  finished." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  aunty ;  for  the  education  which  Bertha 
will  obtain  there,  will,  I  trust,  lead  her  to  have  some  definite 
aim  in  life.  People  who  have  worthy  objects  in  view  never 
finish  their  education.  So  to  the  country  we  will  go,  darling," 
said  Mr.  Wayland,  passing  out. 

"  It  is  because  he  is  a  Wayland  and  an  odd  stick.  A 
Porgie  never  would  do  it.  What  will  folks  say?  Bertha 
won't  appear  decent  in  society,"  said  Aunt  Janet  to  herself, 
submitting  to  the  inevitable,  but  resolving  that  when  Bertha 
was  through  at  Hilltown  she  should  have  at  least  one  term 
at  Miss  Posey's. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
JAKE  NUBBIN'S  PRESENT.. 

Rub  and  scrub. 
Get  all  you  can. 
Save  all  you  get. 

Get  all,  save  all,  and  you  will  have  all. 
Between  saving  a  cent  and  spending  a  cent  there  is  two  cents 
difference. 

Ccnis  make  dollars. 

Money  at  interest  grows  at  midnight. 

Look  out  for  Number  One. 

Number  One  is  yourself. 

Other  folks  are  Number  Two. 

f  I  THESE  were  the  ten  commandments  as  taught  by  old 
__£_  Mr.  Nubbin  to  his  son  Jacob,  or  Jake,  as  he  was  usu 
ally  called.  The  instruction  commenced  when  Jake  was  a  very 
small  boy.  To  save  and  to  have,  to  get  and  to  keep  was  the 
sole  end  of  life.  If  this  moral  law  was  not  rehearsed  on  Sun 
day,  it  was  on  all  other  days  of  the  week  through  the  year  in 
Mr.  Nubbin's  house,  which  was  out  on  the  hills  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain.  It  was  a  hard  farm,  and  there  were  so  many 
rocks  lying  about  that  the  people  who  owned  the  fertile  mead 
ows  along  the  river  were  accustomed  to  say  that  Mr.  Nubbin 

107 


roS  Caleb  Krinkle. 

made  his  pigs  do  his  ploughing  by  sharpening  their  noses  and 
dropping  here  and  there  a  kernel  of  corn  among  the  rocks. 
The  pigs  in  attempting  to  get  at  the  corn  rooted  up  the 
ground  and  thus  enabled  him  to  put  in  a  crop  of  corn  and  po 
tatoes,  which  could  not  have  been  done  with  a  plough.  This 
was  a  joke  which  Jonathan  Jolly  started  and  which  was  in 
tended  to  be  a  satire  upon  the  breed  of  long-nosed  swine  kept 
by  Mr.  Nubbin. 

Although  there  were  no  wide  fields  of  arable  land  on  his 
farm,  Mr.  Nubbin,  by  raking  and  scraping,  by  having  no 
cats  about  him  that  did  not  catch  mice,  by  bringing  up  his 
son  not  only  to  earn  the  salt  in  his  porridge  before  he  ate  it, 
but  to  earn  the  porridge  itself,  had  accumulated  money  in 
the  savings  bank  and  held  notes  payable  on  demand.  All 
the  interest  that  came  from  them  went  into  new  notes  and 
new  bonds  and  new  mortgages.  The  bigger  the  snowball  the 

o    o  oo 

more  intent  he  was  on  rolling  it.  Jacob  having  early  in  life 
taken  in  the  idea,  lifted  with  all  his  might  to  make  the  ball 
bigger  from  year  to  year. 

When  Jake  was  old  enough  to  do  chores  about  the  house 
and  barn,  he  was  put  into  the  traces  and  kept  at  it.  Even 
before  he  left  off  wearing  his  red  woollen  home-made  frock, 
he  was  taught  to  drive  the  cows.  When  he  was  large  enough 
to  lift  a  rock  as  big  as  his  double  fist,  Mr.  Nubbin  had  him 
in  the  field.  When  he  was  a  small  boy  he  rode  the  horse  to 
plough  between  the  corn-rows,  fed  the  pigs,  tied  up  the  cat 
tle,  cleared  the  stalls,  spread  the  hay  after  the  mowers  in  the 
summer  mornings,  and  went  ahead  of  them  with  his  rake  in 
the  afternoons,  and  was  frequently  put  up  under  the  roof  of 
the  barn  on  the  top  of  a  great  hot  mxv  to  stow  away  the  hay. 
What  he  did  \vj-.ilJ  not  hive  to  b-1  done  by  any  onj  else. 
It  was  so  many  cents  a  day  saved  by  Mr.  Nubbin  to  add  to 
the  heap. 


Jake  Nubbin's  Present.  109 

With  all  the  chores  Jake  had  on  hand,  he  found  very  little 
time  fjr  study.  In  summer  there  was  so  much  to  be  done 
that  hij  father  could  not  spare  him.  In  the  winter,  after  doing 
'.he  chores,  he  went  to  school  two  miles  distant,  but  having 
no  liking  for  books,  made  no  great  progress. 

Sj  it  came  about  that  Jacob  Nubbin,  jr.,  arrived  at  man- 
liood  with  very  little  knowledge  derived  from  books. 

From  morning  till  night,  summer  and  winter,  spring  and 
fall,  without  cessation  Mr.  Nubbin  went  on  with  his  raking 
and  scraping,  teaching  his  son  the  same,  and  compelling  his 
wife  to  follow  suit.  Mrs.  Nubbin  had  raked  so  early  in  the 
morning  and  scraped  so  late  at  night,  that  there  was  not 
much  left  of  her  but  skin  and  bones.  It  was  not  her  nature 
to  rub  and  scrub  ahvays.  In  the  early  years  of  her  married 
life  she  had  taken  hold  with  a  will  to  help  her  husband,  look 
ing  forward  to  years  of  rest  after  getting  something  laid  up 
for  a  rainy  day.  But  like  the  rainbow  when  approached,  the 
day  of  rest  had  moved  farther  and  farther  away. 

"  He  that  would  thrive  must  rise  at  five."  Mr.  Nubbin 
believed  in  Poor  Richard's  maxims.  They  were  his  bible, 
only  he  improved  his  scripture  by  getting  up  at  four  and 
having  Mrs.  Nubbin  and  Jake  and  everybody  else  astir  soon 
after. 

"  Nonsense!  "  was  what  he  said  if  Mrs.  Nubbin  wanted 
to  take  jjust  a  little  nap  in  the  morning  to  rest  her  weary 
bones  and  aching  head.  The  hired  men,  sleeping  in  the 
garret,  were  accustomed  to  hear  him  shouting  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  on  Monday  morning, — 

"  Come,  boys,  time  to  get  up.  It's  Monday  morning. 
To-morrow's  Tuesday,  next  day's  Wednesday,  week  half 
gone  and  nothing  done  yet.  Stir  yourselves !  " 

To  make  his  calling  effective,  and  to  wake  them  from 
slumber,  he  was  accustomed  to  srive  several  vigorous  blasts 


no  Caleb  Krinkle. 

on  the  tin  trumpet  and  rap  on  the  stairs  with  the  broomstick. 

But  a  sudden  stop  was  put  to  all  his  raking  and  scraping ; 
death  stepped  in,  and  Jake  found  himself  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three  almost  sole  possessor  of  the  estate.  Mrs.  Nubbin  hav 
ing  her  dower,  Jake  could  not  say  that  he  possessed  all ;  but 
his  mother  was  so  worn,  there  was  so  little  flesh  on  her  bones, 
her  blood  was  so  thin,  that  it  would  not  be  many  years  before 
he  could  call  the  whole  his  own.  Now  that  he  was  in  pos 
session  of  the  property,  he  went  on  with  new  zeal  to  add  to 
the  money  in  the  bank,  to  the  bonds  and  mortgages.  The 
love  of  raking  and  scraping  was  ingrained  into  his  nature. 
It  was  his  happiness,  his  life,  and  the  only  drawback  to  his 
pleasure  was  the  reflection  that  his  mother  might  possibly, 
now  that  she  could  not  rub  and  scrub  as  in  former  years,  be 
a  hindrance  rather  than  a  help. 

But  the  rubbing  and  scrubbing  must  be  done,  and  Jacob 
looked  around  to  see  who  would  be  a  good  hand  to  do  it. 
He  had  worked  for  Captain  Krinkle,  had  watched  Deborah 
tripping  here  and  there  about  the  house,  saw  how  handy  she 
was,  how  quickly  she  washed  the  dishes,  scalded  the  milk- 
pans,  and  how  pretty  she  looked  when  she  was  working  over 
the  butter,  her  plump  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  and  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  not  her  equal  in  Mill- 
brook.  She  would  be  just  the  one  to  fetch  and  carry,  and 
help  him  get  and  keep.  With  her  to  help  he  would  make 
tilings  hum.  She  was  beautiful  in  his  eyes.  The  more  he 
thought  of  her  rounded  arms,  of  the  strength  there  was  in 
them,  the  more  he  admired  them.  She  was  so  plump  and 
hearty  that  she  might  rub  and  scrub  forever  and  never  get 
down  to  skin  and  bones. 

He  admired  her  for  what  there  was  in  her,  and  went  over 
her  good  points  as  he  would  those  of  a  horse. 

"She's  sound,"  he  said  to  himself.     "She  hasn't  a  hollow 


Jake  Nubbin's  Present.  1 1 1 

tooth  in  her  head.  She  ain't  too  fat  nor  too  lean.  She'll 
be  up  before  the  roosters  crow  in  the  morning,  and  keep  on 
the  go  all  day.  She'll  have  to  be  up  till  eleven  at  night  in 
summer  to  set  the  cheese.  She'll  be  on  the  go  eighteen 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  She  won't  spend  much,  — 
trust  me  for  that.  I  shall  have  the  purse  strings  in  my  hands. 
I'll  let  her  put  in,  but  I'll  do  the  taking  out." 

Jacob  loved  Deborah  not  altogether  because  she  could 
work,  but  her  arms  were  plump  and  her  cheeks  rosy.  He  sus 
pected  that  Jonathan  Jolly  had  his  eye  on  her.  He  resolved 
to  secure  her.  He  had  no  doubt  that  she  would  give  Jona 
than  the  mitten  at  once,  and  jump  at  the  chance  of  getting 
him,  as  a  pickerel  jumps  at  a  shiner.  With  his  bonds,  mort 
gages,  and  money  in  the  bank,  he  would  sail  in  and  cut  the 
craft  out  from  under  Jonathan's  nose,  as  Commodore  Preble 
cut  out  the  frigate  "  Philadelphia  "  from  under  the  forts  of  the 
Algerines. 

It  was  a  November  night  when  Mr.  Jacob  Nubbin,  wear 
ing  his  best  clothes,  harnessed  his  horse  into  his  wagon,  and 
went  rattling  down  the  hills  to  rescue  the  prize  from  the 
enemy. 

He  had  a  present  for  her.  It  was  rolling  round  under  his 
feet  in  the  wagon,  —  a  squash.  Although  Captain  Krinkle 
had  a  cart-load  of  squashes,  yet  a  little  present  would  show 
her  how  much  he  thought  of  her.  It  was  of  the  crooked- 
neck  variety  and  she  could  hang  it  on  the  pole  overhead  in 
the  kitchen  where  the  light  would  fall  upon  it  during  the 
long  evenings,  and  ever  as  she  turned  her  eyes  towards  it 
would  think  of  the  giver.  And  then  when  the  time  came  for 
making  it  into  pies,  she  would  taste  its  sweetness  and  would 
think  of  him  all  the  more. 

Mr.  Nubbin  drove  into  the  door-yard,  tied  his  horse  to  the 
hitching-post,  and  creeping  stealthily  up  to  the  window, 


ii2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

peeped  in  through  the  blinds.  He  was  pleased  when  he  dis 
covered  Deborah  sitting  alone.  She  was  knitting.  The 
vision  filled  him  with  ecstasy. 

"  Won't  she  knit  'cm  !  Won't  she  rake  in  the  quarters 
and  the  fifty-cent  pieces  !  She'll  earn  her  salt,  I  tell  you," 
he  said  to  himself.  He  rapped,  and  Deborah  opened  the 
door. 

"  Good-evening,  Deborah,"  he  said,  ducking  his  head  and 
reaching  out  his  right  hand,  holding  the  squash  in  his  leu. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Nubbin,"  she  replied,  inviting  him  in. 

He  was  pleased  to  hear  her  say  Mr.  Nubbin.  When  he 
worked  for  Captain  Krinkle  she  called  him  Jake.  To  be 
called  Mr.  Nubbin  was  a  sign  of  an  increased  respect.  He 
sat  down  in  a  chair,  put  his  hat  on  one  side  and  the  squash 
on  the  other. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  said  Deborah. 

"Yes,  I  guess  so."  He  could  not  at  the  moment  collect 
his  thoughts  to  say  more. 

"  Quite  likely  we  shall  have  a  storm  pretty  soon,"  Deborah 
remarked. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder ;  the  wild  geese  are  beginning  to  go 
south." 

"  Of  course  you  miss  your  father  very  much." 

"  Yes, — but  then  not  so  much  as  you  might  think,  perhaps  ; 
ye  see  the  property  is  all  mine  now,  except  marm's  third,  and 
it  keeps  me  pretty  busy." 

" How  is  your  mother?  " 

"Well,  marm  is  about  the  same  ;  enjoys  rather  poor  health, 
upon  the  whole.  She  ain't  able  to  do  so  much  as  I  wish  she 
was.  I  reckon  she  just  about  earns  her  salt.  She's  got  the 
rhumatiz,  and  is  kinder  thin ;  makes  out  to  keep  round,  but 
she  won't  last  always."  Deborah  waited  for  him  to  say  some 
thing  more,  and  the  room  \vas  so  still  that  they  could  both 


Jake  Nubbin's  Present.  113 

hear  every  tick  of  the  old  clock,  and  Jacob  could  feel  his 
heart  keeping  time  with  it,  thump  —  thump  —  thump. 

"The  fact  is,  Deborah,"  said  Jacob,  moving  uneasily  in  his 
chair,  and  nervously  rubbing  his  hands,  "I  was  riding  down 
this  way  to-night  and  I  thought  I'd  bring  you  a  present. 
I've  got  a  lot  of  squashes  this  year.  The  bugs  didn't  kill 
the  vines,  and  I  thought  maybe  you  would  like  to  have 
one." 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Krinkle  will  be  much  obliged  to  you,  I  am 
sure." 

"  It  will  be  good  to  bile  with  turnips  and  cabbages,  and  it 
will  make  first-rate  pies,  only  it  takes  'lasses  and  sugar  and 
nutmeg  and  all  them  things  to  make  pies,  and  they  cost 
money ;  but  then,  of  course  Captain  Krinkle  has  got  such 
heaps  that  it  don't  make  no  difference  to  him.  Did  you  cut 
and  string  all  them  apples?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the  apples 
that  were  drying  on  the  frames. 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  a  buster  to  work,  Deborah,  that's  a  fact ;  and  so 
am  I.  I  can  go  it  from  morning  till  night.  I'm  up  early, 
before  the  hens  are  off  from  their  roost." 

"  You  have  so  much  money  I  shouldn't  think  that  you 
would  make  such  a  slave  of  yourself,"  said  Deborah. 

"  I  ain't  no  slave  ;  I  do  gest  as  I'm  a  mind  to.  I  like  to 
work.  I  like  to  see  the  dollars  come  in.  I  thought  I'd 
come  down  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  Deborah,  and  see  if 
you  wouldn't  like  to  go  up  to  our  house  to  live." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Nubbin,  but  I  am  very  well  situated  here, 
and  I  shouldn't  like  to  leave  Mrs.  Krinkle." 

"  Mebbe  ye  didn't  quite  sej  what  I  was  driving  at.  I 
didn't  'zactly  mean  to  have  ye  come  and  work  for  wages,  but 
I  tho't  as  how  perhaps  you  would  like  to  be  —  to  be  —  to  be 
Mrs.  Nubbin, —  at  any  rate,  I  should  like  to  have  ye." 


114  Caleb  Krinkk. 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Nubbin,  I  couldn't  think  of  it." 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you  would.  I  wish  you  would.  I've  sot 
heaps  by  you  this  ever  so  long,  and  have  said  to  myself  ever 
so  many  times  there  wasn't  another  gal  in  Millbrook  that  was 
your  equal  for  making  things  hum.  I  wish  you  would  say 
yes." 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Nubbin,  for  your 
good  opinion,  but  I  couldn't  think  of  it,  I'm  sure,"  said  Deb 
orah,  knitting  vigorously. 

Mr.  Nubbin  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  his  suit  because  she 
said  no.  He  hitched  his  chair  a  little  nearer.  But  there 
was  a  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  and  Jonathan  Jolly 
entered  the  room.  Jonathan  opened  his  eyes  wide,  gave  a 
low  whistle,  as  if  comprehending  the  situation  of  affairs,  and 
then  said,  — 

"Why,  Jake  !  how  are  you?     Glad  to  see  you." 

"  Pretty  well,  Jonathan  ;  how  do  you  do?  " 

Jonathan  improved  the  opportunity  to  give  Jacob  an  extra 
grip  as  they  shook  hands,  and  Jacob  began  a  dance  which 
was  neither  a  polka,  a  waltz,  a  Virginia  reel,  nor  any  other 
with  rhythmic  steps,  as  Jonathan  cramped  his  hands  till  the 
bones  fairly  cracked.  In  his  antics  Jacob  kicked  over  his 
chair,  put  one  foot  into  his  hat,  and  set  the  other  on  the 
squash. 

"  Hold  on  there  —  there  —  there,  that'll  do,  —  O oh  ! 

Blast  your  picter  !  I'll  pay  you  for  that,"  he  screamed,  as 
Jonathan  played  off  his  little  joke. 

"  What's  the  matter?  Why,  I  thought  you  was  going  into 
a  fit,  Jake,"  said  Jonathan,  with  a  look  of  wonderment  in  his 
face,  while  Deborah  was  convulsed  with  laughter. 

Mr.  Nubbin  did  not  stop  to  talk  with  Jonathan,  or  to  make 
any  farther  efforts  towards  ingratiating  himself  into  favor  with 
Deborah,  but  put  on  his  hat  and  took  his  departure.  He 


Jake  Nubbin's  Present.  115 

ground  his  teeth  firmly  together  as  he  rode  toward  home. 
He  would  pay  Jonathan  off  some  time.  He  did  not  like  to 
think  that  he  had  given  away  a  squash  for  nothing,  and  was 
determined  in  his  own  mind  that  no  man  should  come  be 
tween  himself  and  Deborah.  He  would  keep  his  eyes  open 
and  bide  his  time. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
DAN  DOESN'T  SEE  IT. 

AN  DISHAWAY  was  driving  toward  Millbrock  with 
his  cart  empty  of  tinware  but  stuffed  with  rags  and 
piled  with  pelts.  It  was  an  October  day,  and  the  woods  were 
bright  with  the  changing  hues  of  autumn.  Perhaps  the  sweet, 
sad  season  of  the  year  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
the  state  of  Dan's  feelings,  for  although  he  was  a  good  dis 
tance  from  Captain  Krinkle's  house,  his  heart  was  there  already. 
He  was  prospering  in  business,  and  was  looking  forward  to 
the  time  when  he  could  buy  a  snug  little  cottage,  —  one  al 
ready  picked  out, —  shaded  by  the  elms,  where  the  orioles 
and  robins  built  their  nests  and  made  the  air  melodious  with 
their  songs.  There  was  a  yard  in  front,  and  a  garden  in  the 
rear,  and  a  stable,  where  he  could  keep  his  horse  and  cart  when 
at  home.  In  imagination  he  saw  Deborah  mistress  of  the 
cottage,  with  every  room  n:at  and  trim,  —  snow-white  cur 
tains  at  the  windows,  rugs  upon  the  fljor,  and  her  bright  eyes 
ever  on  the  watch  for  him  whenever  he  returned  from  his  wan 
derings  over  the  country-  Through  the  days  an:l  weeks  and 
months  the  outliius  of  the  picture  were  present  to  hi.;  mind, 
and  like  an  artist,  he  was  ever  putting  in  a  flower  here  and 
brighter  coloring  there,  until  it  became  an  ever  present 
viol  on. 


Dan  Doesrit  Sec  It.  117 

Deborah  always  welcomed  Dan  with  smiles.  He  had  lived 
upon  them  and  upon  the  brightness  of  her  eyes.  She  had  a 
smile  for  everybody,  and  a  hearty  grasp  of  tru  hand,  but  she 
was  so  kind  to  him  he  could  but  cherish  the  hope  that 
beneath  it  there  was  a  very  tender  regard.  He  was  confident 
that  when  the  right  thru  came  she  would  reach  out  her  arms 
to  him  and  lean  her  head  lovingly  upon  his  bosom.  Oh,  how 
blessed  it  would  be  to  work  for  her  !  He  was  working  for 
her  no. v.  Through  the  yean  tint  had  rolled  away  she  had 
been  a  party  in  coniidjruija  in  th>  sale  of  every  milk-pan, 
skimmer  and  ladle,  and  in  thj  purchisj  of  every  p*lt  and  bag 
of  rags.  To  make  a  home  for  her,  with  lilacs,  hollyhocks 
nn.l  gladiolas  in  the  front  yard,  with  roses  climbing  round 
the  djor,  with  cabbages,  squashes,  turnips,  beans  and  cucum- 
b,v.3  in  thj  gir.L'.i,  wit!\  b:*s  humnhig  around  their 
hives,  storing  honey  for  her  and  himself,  with  hens  cackling 
in  the  barn  and  doves  cooing  on  their  perches,  —  to  make  a 
home  where  she  would  sing  from  morning  till  night :  all  this 

o  o  o 

had  made  the  weeks  go  swiftly  by.  .  „ 

"  I  will  let  her  know  that  I  am  coming,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  and  though  he  was  a  half  mile  awav,  blew  a  b:i:r,  loud 

7  O  V  O* 

blast  upon  his  trumpet.  It  echoed  up  and  down  the  valley 
and  came  back  to  him  from  the  distant  hills. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  will  hear  it."  She  !  There  were  twenty 
girls  in  Millbrook  who  would  hear  it,  but  they  would  only  say, 
"There  !  Dan  is  blowing  his  horn  again  ;  we  must  look  up 
our  rags."  But  Deborah  alone  would  listen  with  rapture 
to  the  swelling  notes.  Now  he  could  see  the  chimney 
tops;  a  little  farther,  and  the  roof  of  the  house  loomed  upon 
his  sight ;  a  few  steps  more  and  he  could  see  her  chamber 
window. 

"  I  will  blow  it  once  more  and  then  I  shall  see  her  at  the 
window."  But  though  he  blew  a  louder  and  longer  blast, 


n8  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

though  he  watched  with  straining  eyes  for  the  white  curtain 
to  go  up,  it  did  not  move. 

Jonathan  Jolly  was  picking  apples  in  the  orchard,  and  Debo 
rah  was  taking  down  the  clothes  from  the  line  beneath  the 
trees,  when  they  heard  the  blast  resounding  through  the  val 
ley. 

"  Rag  Bag  is  coming,"  said  Jonathan. 

"  How  fortunate  !  He  will  be  just  in  time  to  fiddle  for 
us  at  Mr.  Pippin's  party,"  said  Deborah. 

Dan  drove  round  the  corner  of  the  house  into  the  door- 
yard,  and  saw  Deborah  folding  the  clothes,  and  Jonathan  close 
by,  picking  apples.  It  would  have  been  rather  more  agreea 
ble  to  him  if  he  had  found  Deborah  alone. 

"Hullo,  Rag  Bag!  How  are  you?  Glad  to  see  you," 
said  Jonathan,  calling  to  him  from  the  orchard,  while  Debo 
rah  came  up  to  the  garden  fence  to  shake  hands  with  him. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  Dan.  I've  been  wish 
ing1  you  weie  here,  for  Mr.  Pippin  is  going  to  have  an  apple 
party  and  all  hands  of  us  are  invited.  After  we  get  through 
paring  apples  we  are  going  to  have  a  dance,  and  we  want  you 
to  fiddle  for  us." 

"  I'll  be  ihere,  Bright  Eyes,  you'd  better  believe,"  said  Dan, 
shaking  her  hand  heartily. 

He  g:ixcd  into  her  eyes,  felt  the  warm  grasp  of  her  hand, 
then  jumped  upon  his  cart  and  gave  a  chirrup  to  hi.;  horse. 

"  I'll  be  there  sure,  you  bet."  There  were  smiles  all  over 
his  face  as  he  drove  away. 

Supper  was  over,  the  work  for  the  day  completed,  and  Jona 
than  having  filled  his  pipe,  sat  do.vn  on  tne  steps  of  the 
piazza  to  enjoy  it.  Deborah  came  and  sat  by  his  side,  for  it 
was  not  quite  time  to  be  o.i  their  way  to  the  apple-paring. 
They  sat  there  as  they  had  on  other  evenings  during  the  sum 
mer,  enjoying  the  calmness  and  stillness  of  the  twilight. 


Dan  Doesn't  See  It.  .  119 

"  How  bright  the  stars  shine  and  how  beautiful  they  are  ! " 
said  Deborah. 

"  Yes,  the  sky  is  as  full  of  holes  as  one  of  Dan's  skimmers," 
Jonathan  replied,  turning  his  eyes  toward  the  stars. 

"  O  Jonathan  !  what  a  funny  fellow  you  are  !  "  said  Debo 
rah,  laughing  at  the  absurd  comparison. 

"That  is  the  biggest  hole  of  all,"  Jonathan  said,  pointing 
to  Venus,  brightly  shining  in  the  west. 

"  That  is  the  star  of  love,"  and  Deborah  lifted  her  eyes  ten 
derly  to  his. 

Instead  of  returning  the  affectionate  look,  he  tickled  her 
nose  with  a  straw  till  she  could  bear  it  no  longer  and  then ' 
playfully  slapped  him  in  the  face. 

If  Miss  Gilliflower  had  been  sitting  by  his  side  and  had 
said  it  \vas  the  star  of  love,  Jonathan  would  not  have 
tickled  her  nose,  but  would  have  put  his  arm  around  her. 
Year  in  and  year  out  he  had  been  to  meeting  regularly, — 
not  because  Mr.  Canticle  preached,  but  rather  because 
Miss  Gilliflower  was  in  the  choir  and  thrilled  him  when 
she  sang.  He  was  fondly  looking  forward  to  the  time 
when  he  would  be  able  to  purchase  a  farm,  and  then  he 
would  see  if  Miss  Gilliflowei  would  help  him  carry  it  on. 
Entertaining  such  sentiments  toward  Miss  Gilliflower, 
Jonathan  could  not  in  honor  return  the  tender  regard 
manifested  by  Deborah,  but  tickled  her  nose  and  ears  and 
pinched  her  cheeks  instead. 

It  was  a  gleeful  gathering  in  kitchen  and  dining-room  at 
Mr.  Pippin's.  The  company  sat  in  groups.  The  young 
men  with  their  machines,  pared  the  apples,  and  tossed 
them  into  the  milk-pans  and  trays  in  the  laps  of  the  young 
ladies,  who  quartered  and  cored  them.  There  was  a  gen 
erous  rivalry  between  Jonathan  and  the  other  young  men 


i2O  Caleb  Krinkk. 

to  see  which  could  pare  a  bushel  the  quickest.  Perhaps 
the  thought  that  there  was  to  be  something  better  than 
quartering  and  coring,  that  there  was  to  be  a  more  de 
lightful  pairing  of  parties,  stimulated  them  to  get  the 
apples  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible.  Perhaps  it  was 
this  which  brought  such  a  bright  flush  to  Jonathan's  manly 
countenance,  and  induced  him  to  do  his  best,  and  possibly 
the  fact  that  Miss  Gillillower  was  sitting  by  his  side  had 
something  to  do  with  his  success  in  beating  all  his  rivals. 
That  she  was  pleased  he  could  not  doubt,  else  why  the 
tender  glance  of  her  eye. 

Jt  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Dan  arrived.  He  had 
been  so  long  absent  from  home,  and  had  so  much  to  say 
to  his  mother,  that  the  apples  were  out  of  the  way  and  all 
hands  ready  for  supper  when  he  appeared.  He  could  hear 
the  merry  laughter  of  the  company  before  reaching  the 
house,  and  it  was  so  delightful  to  his  ears,  that  he  snapped 
the  strings  of  his  violin  into  tune,  then  halted  on  the  door 
step  and  struck  up  "  Yankee  Doodle." 

"There's  Dan!  There's  Dan!"  "Good!  Good!" 
"Won't  we  have  a  jolly  time!"  were  the  exclamations  of 
the  company,  as  if  Dan  were  the  one  person  above  all 
others  in  the  world  who  could  make  their  happiness  com 
plete.  A  half  dozen  girls,  Deborah  among  them,  ran  to 
welcome  him. 

"  O  Dan,  we  are  so  glad!"  "We  are  ever  so  much 
obliged  to  you."  "  It  is  just  like  you  to  drop  in  at  the  right 
time."  "Come  right  along."  "Supper  is  all  ready." 
"  How  do  you  do?  ' 

He  did  not  know  who  said  this  or  who  said  that,  for  all 
were  talking  together.  They  led  him  into  the  kitchen  and 
up  to  the  fire  that  was  glowing  on  the  hearth,  where  they 
could  see  his  honest  face. 


Dan  Doesn't  See  II.  \z\ 

Supper  was  rend}-,  and  they  helped  themselves  to  baked 
beans,  Indian  pudding,  apple  and  squash  pies,  and  topped 
off  \vith  gingerbread  and  cake,  coffee  and  cider. 
When  it  was  over,  Deborah,  Miss  GKliflower  a:-.d  a  half 
dozen  others,  rolled  up  their  sleeves  and  made  quick  work 
of  washing  up  the  dishes,  for  they  all  sai.l  it  would  be  a 
shame  to  leave  them  for  Mrs.  Pippin  to  do  in  the  morn- 

'"&• 

The  table  was  then  pushed  into  a  corner,  the  chairs  car 
ried  into  the  hall,  and  the  kitchen  cleared  for  the  dancing. 
Dan  placed  a  chair  on  the  table  and  seated  himself  in  it 
whilj  the  young  men  were  choosing  their  partners. 

Deborah  could  not  understand  why  Jonathan  shouU 
pass  her  by  and  select  Miss  GM;i!lo'.ver,  but  girls  with 
cheeks  as  plump  as  hers,  and  with  eyes  as  bright,  are 
never  in  want  of  paitners  at  a  dance,  or  anywhere  else; 
and  before  there  was  time  for  vexation,  envy,  or  jealousy 
to  get  a  fo  't-hokl  with  her,  she  was  moving  in  a  cotillon. 

Dan  wished  that  he  coukl  be  t  ipping  it  0:1  the  floor, 
wHi  Deborah  for  a  partner,  but  if  he  were  to  lay  aside  his 
violin  and  step  down  from  the  table  the  dancing  would 
cease;  and  so  he  gladly  drew  the  bow  across  the  strings, 
knowing  that  if  he  coukl  not  be  supremely  happy  himself, 
he  was  giving  pleasure  to  everybody  else. 

Cotillon,  quadrille,  waltz  and  reel  succeeded  each 
other,  and  long  before  the  dancers  thought  of  being 
weary,  the  hands  of  th^  old  clock  ticking  in  the  corner 
swept  round  to  the  hour  for  going  home. 

Deborah  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  waited  by 
the  door  for  Jonathan.  Miss  Giilillower  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room  drawing  on  her  gloves,  and  Jonathan  stood 
near  her  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  looking  unconcernedly 
here  and  there,  as  if  waiting  for  something.  Deborah 


i2O  Caleb  Ki'inkk. 

to  see  which  could  pare  a  bushel  the  quickest.  Perhaps 
the  thought  that  there  was  to  be  something  better  than 
quartering  and  coring,  that  there  was  to  be  a  more  de 
lightful  pairing  of  parties,  stimulated  them  to  get  the 
apples  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible.  Perhaps  it  was 
this  which  brought  such  a  bright  flush  to  Jonathan's  manly 
countenance,  and  induced  him  to  do  his  best,  and  possibly 
the  fact  that  Miss  Gillillower  was  sitting  by  his  side  had 
something  to  do  with  his  success  in  beating  all  his  rivals. 
That  she  was  pleased  he  could  not  doubt,  else  why  the 
tender  glance  of  her  eye. 

Jt  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Dan  arrived.  He  had 
been  so  long  absent  from  home,  and  had  so  much  to  say 
to  his  mother,  that  the  apples  were  out  of  the  way  and  all 
hands  ready  for  supper  when  he  appeared.  He  could  hear 
the  merry  laughter  of  the  company  before  reaching  the 
house,  and  it  was  so  delightful  to  his  ears,  that  he  snapped 
the  stiings  of  his  violin  into  tune,  then  halted  on  the  door 
step  and  struck  up  "  Yankee  Doodle." 

"  There's  Dan  !  There's  Dan  !  "  "  Good  !  Good  !  " 
"  Won't  we  have  a  jolly  time  !  "  were  the  exclamations  of 
the  company,  as  if  Dan  were  the  one  person  above  all 
others  in  the  world  who  could  make  their  happiness  com 
plete.  A  half  dozen  girls,  Deborah  among  them,  ran  to 
welcome  him. 

"  O  Dan,  we  are  so  glad!"  "We  are  ever  so  much 
obliged  to  you."  "It  is  just  like  you  to  drop  in  at  the  right 
time."  "  Come  right  along."  "  Supper  is  all  ready." 
"  How  do  you  do?  ' 

He  did  not  know  who  said  this  or  who  said  that,  for  all 
were  talking  together.  They  led  him  into  the  kitchen  and 
up  to  the  fire  that  was  glowing  on  the  hearth,  where  they 
could  see  his  honest  face. 


Dan  Doesn't  See  If.  121 

Supper  was  read}-,  and  they  helped  themselves  to  baked 
beans,  Indian  pudding,  apple  and  squash  pies,  a:v:l  topped 
off  \vith  gingerbread  and  cake,  coffee  and  cider. 
When  it  was  over,  Deborah,  Miss  Gi'.lilbwer  ar.d  a  half 
dozen  others,  rolled  up  their  sleeves  and  made  quick  work 
of  washing  up  the  dishes,  for  they  all  sai.l  it  would  be  a 
shame  to  leave  them  for  Mrs.  Pippin  to  do  in  the  morn 
ing. 

The  table  was  then  pushed  into  a  corner,  the  chairs  car 
ried  into  the  hall,  and  the  kitchen  cleared  for  the  dancing. 
Dan  placed  a  chair  on  the  table  and  sealed  himself  in  it 
whil:  the  young  men  were  choosing  their  partners. 

Deborah  could  not  understand  \vliy  Jonathan  should 
pass  her  by  and  select  Miss  Giliirlo'.ver,  but  girls  with 
cheeks  as  plump  as  hers,  and  with  eyes  a;  bright,  are 
never  in  want  of  paitners  at  a  dance,  or  anywhere  else; 
and  before  there  was  time  for  vexation,  envy,  or  jealousy 
to  get  a  fo'?t-hol:l  wkh  her,  she  was  moving  in  a  cotillon. 

Dan  wished  that  he  could  bj  t  ipping  it  0:1  the  floor, 
will  Deborah  for  a  partner,  but  if  he  were  to  lay  aside  his 
violin  and  step  down  from  the  table  the  dancing  would 
cease;  and  so  he  gladly  drew  the  bow  across  the  strings, 
knowing  that  if  he  could  not  be  supremely  happy  himself, 
he  was  giving  pleasure  to  everybody  else. 

Cotillon,  quadrille,  waltz  and  reel  succeeded  each 
other,  and  long  before  the  dancers  thought  of  being 
weary,  the  hands  of  th%old  clock  ticking  in  the  corner 
swept  round  to  the  hour  for  going  home. 

Deborah  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  waited  by 
the  door  for  Jonathan.  Miss  Giilillower  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room  drawing  on  her  gloves,  and  Jonathan  stood 
near  her  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  looking  unconcernedly 
here  and  there,  as  if  waiting  for  something.  Deborah 


122  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

wondered  what  it  might  be.  She  saw  him  whisper  in  the 
ear  cf  Miss  G'.lliflower,  who  took  his  arm.  They  swept 
past  her  out  cf  the  room,  and  she  heard  their  footsteps  in 
the  yard.  Then  the  lights  upon  the  mantle  suddenly  grew 
dim,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  turned  to  dash 
them  unseen  away. 

'•  Shall  I  see  you  home,  Deborah  ? "  It  was  Dan  who 
said  it.  She  took  his  arm  and  they  went  out  into  the 
yard,  clown  the  walk,  through  the  gate  and  into  the  street. 
She  had  experienced  a  sudden  faintness,  but  the  fresh  air 
revived  her. 

"  We've  had  a  real  jolly  time,  haven't  we  ?  "  said  Dan. 

"Yes;  everything  has  passed  off  pleasantly,"  she  an 
swered. 

"  Mrs.  Pippin  knows  how  to  do  things  in  tip-top  style," 
said  Dan. 

"We  are  under  great  obligations  to  you,  Dan  ;  things 
wouldn't  have  gone  quite  so  glibly  if  you  had  not  been 
there,"  Deborah  replied,  feeling  truly  grateful  for  what  he 
had  done. 

"  I  tried  to  saw  off  the  tunes  as  well  as  I  could.  I 
wanted  you  all  to  have  a  good  time,  and  somebody  in  par 
ticular.  You  can't  guess  who?" 

"  I  guess  it  was  Dolly  Simpkins,"  said  Deborah,  naming  a 
girl  who  was  not  a  favorite.  Dolly  was  not  good-looking, 
and  was  not  particularly  amiable  ;  for  these  reasons  and  also 
because  there  were  more  young  ladies  than  gentlemen  at  the 
paring,  Dolly  had  been  a  spectator  and  not  a  partner  during 
the  dancing. 

"  You  didn't  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  that  time,  Deborah. 
But  I  must  say  that  I  thought  it  a  burning  shame  for  all 
the  young  men  to  give  Dolly  the  go-by,  even  if  she  isn't 
quite  as  good-looking  as  she  might  be.  If  there  had  been 
anybody  to  fiddle,  I  would  have  taken  her  for  a  partner." 


Dan  Doesn't  See  It.  123 

Friend  of  the  friendless  ever.  He  had  seen  the  slights 
put  upj;i  the  girl,  and  wanted  to  do  something  to  m:ike  it 
a  pleasurable  evening  to  her  ;  b'.it  \vhile  lie  wished  he 
could  do  something  for  her,  he  had  seen  one  girl  whirling 
in  the  dance  who  had  inspired  him  by  her  presence. 

"  You'll  have  to  guess  again,  Deborah." 

"Miss  GilliHower."  Deborah  was  sorry  the  next  mo 
ment  that  she  had  named  her,  but  Miss  Gilliflower  just 
then  was  uppermost  in  her  thoughts. 

"  You  ain't  worth  a  cent  at  guessing." 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  went  on. 

"  It  was  you,  Deborah." 

"  Thank  you,  Dan." 

"  I  made  a  discovery  to-night/'  said  Dan. 

"Indeed  !   what  was  it?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Can't  you  hear  somebody's  footsteps  ahead  ?  Can't 
you  hear  their  voices  ?  What  do  you  suppose  they  are 
talking  about  ? '' 

He  did  not  know  that  his  words  were  so  many  arrows 
shot  through  her  heart.  She  made  no  reply  and  he  con 
tinue  d. 

"  I  reckon  you  didn't  sec  how  Jonathan  and  Miss  Gilli- 
flower  looked  at  each  other.  I  never  suspected  that  Jona 
than  had  his  eye  on  her,  but  I  supposed  he  was  thinking 
cf  somebody  else,  and  I'm  glad  to  find  that  I  was  mis 
taken." 

Still  no  reply. 

"  Deborah,"  he  continued,  "  I've  had  something  on  my 
ir/ir.d  for  a  long  while  that  I  have  wanted  to  say  to  you, 
and  I  guess  I'd  better  say  it  now."  Dan  had  laughed 
heartily  through  the  evening,  but  now  his  voice  was  soft 
and  tremulous. 


126  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  please  forgive  me  if  I  have  said  or  done  any  thing  to 
night  that  has  given  you  pain,  but  before  I  go  T  want  to 
say  that  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  can  remember.  I 
have  hoped  that  you  loved  me,  but  perhaps  I  had  no  right 
to  think  so.  I  have  worshipped  the  very  ground  you 
walked  on,  and  I  always  shall.  God  bless  you  and  fill  all 
your  life  with  happiness.  Good-by." 

He  reached  out  his  hand;  she  took  it  mechanically. 

"Thank  you,  Dan/' 

It  was  spoken  faintly.  She  passed  into  the  hall,  and 
the  door  closed. 

Dan  was  alcne  in  the  darkness.  He  walked  he  knew 
not  whither,  taking  no  note  of  the  way. 

Life  was  a  blank,  the  past  had  no  value,  the  future  no 
hope.  He  sat  clown  by  the  roadside  beneath  a  tree,  bared 
his  forehead  to  the  night  air,  and  fanned  himself  to  cool 
the  fever  that  was  burning  him  up.  Clouds  had  over 
spread  the  sky,  shutting  out  every  star ;  there  was  no  bright 
ness  in  heaven  or  on  earth. 

Deborah  in  her  chamber  was  going  over  the  events  of 
the  night.  She  was  grieved  to  think  that  Jonathan  had 
passed  her  by  and  taken  up  with  Miss  Gilliflower;  but 
hope  springs  immortal  in  the  human  breast ;  perhaps,  after 
all,  he  did  not  mean  any  thing  in  particular  by  it.  If  he 
liked  Miss  Gilliflower,  he  never  before  had  shown  her , any 
marked  attention  ;  perhaps  it  was  only  a  passing  fancy. 
She  was  sorry  that  Dan  had  said  any  thing  to  her.  She 
had  done  what  she  could  to  stop  him,  but  he  would  say  it. 
He  was  ungainly  and  had  queer  ways.  She  respected  him, 
find  perhaps  if  there  were  no  Jonathan  in  the  world  she 
might  learn  to  love  the  kind-hearted  fellow.  Oh,  if  Jonathan 
had  only  spoken  those  parting  words,  how  blissful  the  night 
would  have  been  !  But  there  it  was  —  all  a  muddle. 


Dan  Doesn't  See  It.  127 

The  night  was  no  longer  calm  ;  the  winds  were  sweeping 
down  the  valley  and  the  withered  leaves  falling  from 
the  trees.  They  came  whirling  around  Dan  as  he  lay 
upon  the  ground.  Like  them,  his  bright  hopes  had  with 
ered  before  an  untimely  frost,  and  were  scattered  to  the 
winds.  The  trees  would  put  forth  their  buds  when  the 
winter  was  past,  the  leaves  would  re-appear  in  the  spring 
time,  the  violets  would  come  in  the  meadow,  the  crowfoot 
and  clover  would  bloom  on  all  the  hills,  but  for  him  there 
would  be  never  again  a  springing  up  of  hope  ;  for  him  no 
bloom  in  life,  but  winter  always  !  There  has  been  many  a 
burial  of  dead  hopes  in  the  darkness,  with  but  a  single 
mourner  to  heap  with  breaking  heart  the  socls  above  them. 
Hard  it  is  to  take  the  parting  look,  to  lay  them  down, 
knowing  that  there  can  be  no  resurrection  morn ;  hard  to 
'say  to  the  soul,  "From  henceforth  they  must  be  blotted 
from  the  Book  of  Remembrance."  Pity  the  stricken  one 
in  the  darkness,  trying  to  dig  a  grave  for  his  hopes.  The 
winds  are  sighing  above  him  ;  they  wail  mournfully  amid 
the  pines.  A  storm  is  coming  on  and  the  rain-drops  fall. 
The  louder  the  storm  the  better  for  him,  for  he  fain  would 
seek  peace  in  its  uproar.  The  elms  rock  in  the  tempest ; 
wild  gusts  sweep  past  him ;  the  rain  drenches  him. 

In  the  dull  gray  dawn,  haggard  and  weary,  chilled  by 
exposure,  with  chattering  teeth  and  quivering  lips,  his  vio 
lin  unstrung,  the  bow  broken,  as  if  the  hand  that  had 
drawn  it  had  lost  its  cunning,  with  wilclness  in  his  eyes 
and  with  faltering  steps,  Dan  walked  wearily  up  to  his 
home,  lifted  the  latch,  climbed  the  creaking  stairs  and  en 
tered  his  chamber. 

An  hour  passed.  Breakfast  was  ready,  but  Dan  was 
asleep  and  his  mother  ate  alone,  —  thanking  God  for  her 


123  Caleb  Rr inkle. 

daily  bread  and  for  the  g;ft  of  such  a  dear  good  son.  The 
rain  beat  against  the  window  panes  and  rallied  upon  the 
roof,  and  Dan  was  sleeping  the  while.  Dinner  was  ready 
and  he  did  not  conic. 

"  Poor  boy!  he  was  up  all  night  and  played  for  them  ;  no 
wonder  he  is  tired.  I  must  have  a  good  supper  for  him," 
said  the  mother. 

Supper  lime:  she  sits  by  his  side,  not  at  the  table,  but  by 
his  bedside,  bathing  his  fevered  brow,  and  his  burning 
hands. 

Weeks  go  by;  she  is  still  there,  where  she  has  been 
through  all  ihe  weary  time.  It  is  but  a  shadow  of  Dan 
lying  there.  Fever  came  fiom  the  exposure  to  the  storm 
and  tempest.  In  the  burial  of  his  dead  hopes,  life  has  all 
but  passed  away,  but  they  arc  buried  forever.  Reason  has 
returned  and  he  can  talk  composedly  of  the  past. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  my  boy.  It  is  hard  to  have  a  great 
hope  that  has  filled  life  with  brightness  go  out  suddenly, 
like  a  candle  when  the  wick  is  burned  to  the  socket,  leav 
ing  you  in  utter  darkness.  I  think  that  Deborah  would 
make  you  a  good  wife,  but  if  her  heart  don't  turn  toward 
you,  it  is  better  for  both  cf  you  to  be  as  you  are.  And, 
my  dear  boy,  don't  forget  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  those  that  love  the  Lord." 

"I  don't  see  it,  mother,"  said  Dan,  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
and  upon  his  cheeks. 

"  Cf  course  you  don't.  The  sorrow  came  suddenly. 
You  didn't  expect  it.  Your  hopes  that  you  have  cherished 
for  so  many  years  are  all  dashed  to  the  ground  ;  your 
heart  is  wrung  ;  your  eyes  arj  fille;!  with  t.virs:  of  course 
you  can't  see  how  it  can  b_>  for  good.  13.U  at  the  best,  my 
boy,  we  are  short-sighted,  and  it  takes  a  very  long  sight  to 


Dan  Doesift  See  It.  129 

look  through  all  the  years  from  early  manhood  to  old  age, 
and  beyond  it  through  the  eternal  years.  All  things  work 
together  for  our  good,  but  this  is  only  one  thing.  It  may 
be  the  greatest  thing,  but  it  is  only  one.  I  could  not  see 
when  your  father  was  brought  in  all  mangled,  the  life 
crushed  out  of  him,  and  you  a  baby  on  my  bosom,  how 
it  was  possible  for  any  happiness  to  come  to  me  in  this 
world  ;  but  I  have  had  a  great  deal,  and  expect  to  have  all 
that  I  want,  all  that  I  am  capable  of,  and  to  be  filled 
like  a  cup  to  overflowing  in  the  next  world." 

"  There  ain't  any  thing  worth  living  for  now,"  said  Dan, 
drawing  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

There  is  no  flower  that  sends  its  roots  and  fibres  so 
deep  down  into  the  earth  as  true  love  into  human  hearts. 
Pluck  up  love  by  the  roots,  and  it  is  a  tearing  up  of  the 
whole  life. 

"  Nothing  worth  living  for,  my  dear  boy  !  Haven't  you 
done  what  you  could  to  make  all  the  little  boys  and  girls 
happy  ?  Haven't  you  given  them  trumpets,  whistles  and 
dolls?  Haven't  you  filled  their  little  lives  with  sunshine? 
Haven't  you  made  their  fathers  and  mothers  happy  by 
giving  so  much  pleasure  to  the  children  ?  Haven't  you 
been  happy  yourself  all  the  while,  and  wished  now  and 
then  that  there  was  something  you  could  do  to  add  to 
everybody's  pleasure  ?  And  now,  just  because  Deborah 
has  refused  you,  will  you  turn  your  back  on  all  your 
friends?  Of  course  you  won't.  It  wouldn't  be  like  you, 
Dan.  There  is  a  great  deal  that  is  worth  living  for.  Just 
think  how  many  people  there  are  in  the  world  who  are 
having  a  hard  time  of  it,  and  how  much  you  can  do  to 
help  them  on ;  how  happy  you  can  make  them ;  how  much 
you  can  do  to  make  men  better." 

It  was  a  brave  heart  that  gave  this  encouragement,  —  a. 


130  Caleb  Kr'mklc. 

henrt,  that,  like  a  ship  in  the  storm  and  darkness,  had 
battled  with  the  billuws.  and  \vas  riding  serenely  in  a  shel 
tered  haven  ;  and  this  faith,  assurance  and  rest  had  been 
secured  through  the  seeking  of  others'  happiness,  instead 
of  her  own.  Her  words  gave  comfort  and  strength  to 
Dan.  Me  knew  that  all  she  was  saying  was  true  ;  her  life 
had  proved  it,  and  so  had  his  own  experience  thus  far  in 
life.  Should  he  now  cease  trying  to  make  others  happy 
because  a  great  disappointment  had  co.ne  to  him?  Th* 
words  of  his  mother,  "It  wouldn't  be  like  you,  Dan/'  were 
ringing  in  his  ears. 

No,  it  v.'ouldn'l  be  like  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BOILING    SAP. 

WHITE  HAIR  and  his  mates,  like  traveller* 
upon  ;i  turnpike,  had  arrived  at  the  cross-roads 
of  lif'j,  and  there  were  i.o  guide  boards  to  tell  tliein  how 
far  it  was  to  Fame,  Opulence,  Comfort  and  Happiness,  or 
which  was  the  most  direct  way  thither.  Nor  did  it  ever 
occur  to  them  that  the  paths  might  take  them  to  Blunder, 
Ladjob  and  Hard  Scrabble  instead.  Moses,  Ben,  Bell 
and  Daisy  branched  of!  to  Hilhown  Academy,  which  was 
but  ten  n  iles  distant.  Lh  da  could  not  go  with  them,  her 
mother  being  an  invalid  and  needing  her  care.  She  sa\v 
lier  males  take  their  departure,  and  then  cheerfully  as 
sumed  the  duties  of  her  life. 

Caleb  had  expected  to  accompany  them,  and  had  looked 
forward  with  pleasure  to  the  hour  when  he  could  stand 
wiihin  t!ie  academic  hails:  but  when  the  lime  arrived  his 
father  had  bo  many  things  on  hand  that  he  could  not  spare 
him. 

"  I  r  eed  your  help,  my  son,"  said  Captain  Krinkle.  "  I 
know  you  have  set  your  heart  upon  getting  an  education; 
1  know  that  you  think  it  rather  hard  to  be  compelled  to 
remain  at  home,  while  Moses.  Job  and  Ben  are  getting  the 
start  of  you;  but  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  be  a  loser  in 


132  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  end.  The  information  that  we  get  from  books  is  of 
great  value,  but  knowledge  which  comes  from  experience 
in  practical  life  enables  us  to  be  self-reliant.  By  assum 
ing  care  and  responsibility,  your  manhood  will  be  devel 
oped,  which,  after  all,  is  better  than  any  knowledge  you 
may  acquire  from  books.  I  intend  that  you  shall  have 
every  possible  advantage  for  making  yourself  a  man,  but 
just  now  I  must  ask  you  to  stay  at  home  and  be  my 
helper." 

What  could  Caleb  say  to  such  confidence  and  trust? 
Only  this :  "  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  help  you,  father." 

He  could  hardly  utter  the  words,  and  was  forced  to 
brush  away  a  tear,  for  it  was  true,  as  his  father  had  said, 
that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon  going  to  the  academy.  It 
was  not  that,  however,  which  brought  the  moisture  to  his 
eyes,  but  the  confidence  and  trust  reposed  in  him. 

A  young  gentleman  or  lady  at  Hilltown  Academy,  — 
popularly  supposed  to  be  the  best  institution  of  the  kind 
in  the  country,  —  could  look  complacently  down  from  the 
exalted  position  upon  a  friend  at  home.  Moses  was  con 
scious  of  the  dignity  which  he  had  attained. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  as  he  met  Caleb  upon  the 
street,  "  I  wish  you  could  go." 

"  So  do  I,  but  I  can't,"  Caleb  replied. 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  losing.  It  is  grand. 
There  are  nice  fellows,  and  girls,  too,  from  Boston,  New 
York,  and  all  over  the  country." 

"  I  have  got  to  take  care  of  things  at  home  while  father 

=  is  absent;  he  has   put   most   every  thing  into  my  hands," 

Caleb   replied,  with  the  view  of  letting  Moses  know  that 

,  though  he  could  not  go  to  the   academy,  he  was  still  of 

.  some  consequence  in  the  world. 

"  I  am   going  to    study  Latin    and   Greek,  French  and 


£  oiling  Sap.  133 

German,  and  I  don't  know  what  other  languages.  Father" 
says  that  he  wants  rne  to  have  a  thorough  education,  for  I 
am  to  be  a  lawyer,  perhaps  a  judge,  and  maybe  a  member 
of  Congress.  Won't  it  be  glorious?  It  is  really  too  bad 
that  you  have  got  to  stay  at  home  and  look  after  the  lambs 
and  pigs." 

"My  time  will  come  by  and  by."  It  was  all  that  Caleb 
could  say  in  reply,  for  something  had  risen  in  his  throat 
which  he  was  forced  to  gulp  down  as  Moses  drew  aside 
the  curtains  of  the  future.  He  recalled  with  bitterness  the 
first  copy  set  by  Miss  Hyssop  in  his  writing-book :  "  Dis 
appointment  is  the  lot  of  man.'"  He  remembered  how  hard 
it  was  to  make  a  capital  D,  and  how  the  "lot  of  man" 
became  totally  depraved,  and  would  leave  the  line  and  run 
up  hill  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do ;  how,  before  he  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  page  he  became  disgusted  with  the  copy 
and  wrote  as  fast  as  he  could,  without  paying  any  atten 
tion  to  the  hair  strokes  and  shaded  lines;  and  how  Miss 
Hyssop,  as  a  punishment  for  making  such  crow's  tracks, 
reset  it  on  the  next  page,  and  he  had  to  write  it  a  second 
time.  Besides,  he  did  not  then  believe  the  sentiment. 
The  hurrahs  of  life  were  all  pent  up  beneath  his  jacket  and 
were  struggling  to  get  out;  he  was  sure  that  disappoint 
ment  would  not  be  his  lot,  even  if  it  was  the  lot  of  man  in 
general. 

Mrs.  Krinkle  saw  the  shadow  that  settled  upon  Caleb's  face. 

"  I  am  confident,  my  dear  boy,  that  in  the  end  you  will  lose 
nothing.  You  know  that  your  father  and  I  have  your  wel 
fare  in  life  very  much  at  heart.  We  will  do  what  we  can  for 
you." 

That  soft  hand  upon  his  brow,  the  kiss  upon  his  cheek,  how 
healing !  He  forgot  the  disappointment,  and  manfully  took 
up  the  trusts  committed  to  his  care;  not  only  the  chores 


134  Caleb  Krinklc. 

about  the  house  and  barn,  but  the  tapping  cf  the  maple 
trees  in  the  sugar  orchard,  and  the  boiling  of  the  sap  when 
spring  came  on. 

It  was  not  man's  work,  the  grove  of  maples  crowning 
the  hill  beyond  Caleb's  home,  but  God's  gift.  The  trees 
had  sprung  up  from  the  ground,  the  rains  nourished 
them,  the  earth  furnished  them  food,  the  sun  gave  them 
life,  and  they  live-1  and  llxirished  i:i  regal  beauty.  Peo 
ple  from  Boston,  searching  for  summer  homes,  came  to 
Millbrook,  because  the  elms  ami  this  grove  were  as  a  crown 
of  glory  to  the  place,  and  because  it  was  so  delightful  to 
sit  upon  the  mossy  rocks  beneath  them  and  gaze  at  the 
meadows  and  mountains  and  guher  the  maiden-hair  and 
other  ferns  that  sprung  up  around  the  ledges. 

In  winter,  when  the  fields  and  pastures  were  white  with 
snow,  it  was  the  place  where  Caleb  and  his  mates  were 
accustomed  to  fly  like  the  winds  down  the  slope  to  the 
pond  and  acioss  the  gleaming  ice  to  the  farther  shore. 
But  now  he  had  so  many  things  on  hand  there  was  little 
time  for  coasting.  It  was  hard  work  to  tap  the  maples. 
It  made  his  arms  ache  to  bore  the  holes,  insert  the  spouts, 
and  fix  the  buckets  beneath  them  to  catch  the  sap,  and 
still  harder  to  drive  his  yoke  of  untrained  steers  when  col 
lecting  the  snp.  The  frisky  cattle  had  no  intention  of  los 
ing  their  liberty  and  being  compelled  to  draw  a  heavy  sled 
\vi:h  a  barrel  upon  it;  they  took  to  their  heels  and  ran  pell- 
mell  down  the  hill  with  their  tails  in  the  air  and  the  sled 
turned  bottom  side  up,  but  Caleb  caught  them,  rapped  them 
on  the  nose  with  his  goad  stick,  and  taught  them  the 
meaning  of  "gee  Bright"  and  "  haw  Buck"  so  effectually 
that  they  became  as  sober  as  old  oxen. 

The  house  for  boiling  the  sap  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 


Boiling  Sap.  135 

prove,  sheltered  from  the  north  winds  by  the  hill  and  an 
overhanging  ledge.  Through  the  day  and  late  into  the. 
night  Caleb  kept  the  fires  under  the  kettle  going,  reading 
and  studying  as  he  had  opportunity.  To  relieve  the  mo 
notony  of  the  houis,  he  took  a  slide  down  ihe  hiil  now  and 
then,  as  he  could  find  time,  but  it  was  rather  dull  music  to 
coast  alone.  If  he  could  have  had  Ben,  Job,  Linda,  Bell, 
Daisy  or  Mary  to  enjoy  it  with  him,  it  would  have  been  glo 
rious  fun. 

But  he  had  one  friend  to  keep  him  company  through  the 
days  and  evenings,  —  Dan  Dishaway,  who,  while  the  snow 
was  disappearing  and  the  frost  coming  out  o(  the  ground, 
did  not  care  to  be  plodding  through  the  mud  with  his  cart 
loaded  with  tin. 

There  was  a  deep  and  sincere  affection  between  Dan  and 
Caleb,  —  thankfulness  on  the  part  of  Dan  that  he  hail 
rescued  Caleb  from  drowning,  and  gratitude  on  the  part 
of  Caleb.  The  hours  flew  swiftly  by  when  Dan  was  wkh 
him.  It  was  a  sad  pleasure  to  Dan  to  sit  in  the  doorway 
of  the  sugar-house  and  look  clown  upon  the  farm-house, 
catching  a  glimpse  of  Deborah  now  and  then  as  she  went 
to  the  well  for  water  or  made  her  appearance  on  the  piazza. 

"O White  Hair!"  said  Dan,  "  I  shall  always  love  her,  and 
perhaps  the  time  may  come  when  I  shall  be  able  to  do 
something  to  make  her  happy.  I  never  shall  love  any 
body  else,  never,  never." 

"  Perhaps  she  will  love  you  sometime."  Cakb  replied, 
wishing  to  say  something  that  would  comfort  him. 

"I  don't  expect  it,  White  Hair.  1  am  a  great  gawky, 
and  she  can't  love  me.  I  had  hoped  she  would,  but  if  she 
can't,  she  can't,  and  I  have  no  right  to  complain." 

Dan  had  recovered  from  his  sickness,  but  the  shadow  of 
the  great  soirow  was  upon  him.  If,  perchance,  he  met 


136  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Deborah  at  meeting  on  Sunday,  or  on  the  street,  he  treated 
her  with  the  utmost  respect,  but  his  longing  eyes  usually 
followed  her  till  she  was  out  of  sight. 

Deborah  was  sorry  for  him  ;  she  liked  him  because  he 
was  good.  There  was  nobody  else  in  the  world,  so  far  as 
she  knew,  that  could  call  the  doves  from  their  perch,  or 
coax  the  squirrels  from  the  trees  to  eat  corn  from  his 
hands.  The  surliest  dog  in  Millbrook  never  barked  at 
Dan,  but  crouched  at  his  feet  and  licked  his  hand.  On 
that  day  when  he  rescued  Caleb  from  drowning,  she  felt 
that  he  was  almost  equal  to  the  good  men  mentioned  in 
the  Testament,  who  could  take  up  serpents,  or  lay  their 
hands  upon  the  sick  and  make  them  well,  but  for  all  that, 
her  heart  did  not  go  out  toward  him  as  it  did  toward  Jona 
than.  She  could  not  believe  that  Jonathan  was  seriously 
paying  his  attentions  to  Miss  Gilliflower.  He  would  get 
enough  of  her  after  awhile. 

Although  Dan  came  to  see  Caleb  often,  and  relieved 
the  tedious  monotony  of  the  hours  by  his  presence,  Caleb 
could  not  help  thinking  of  his  mates  at  Hilltown,  while 
watching  the  steaming  kettles. 

"Isn't  it  too  bad,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  to  be  tied  up 
here  while  they  are  getting  ahead  of  me  ? " 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  White  Hair,"  Dan  replied  ;  "  the 
earliest  sown  wheat  don't  always  produce  the  best  crop. 
Take  things  easy,  my  boy.  The  time  was  when  it  used  to 
make  me  grit  my  teeth  to  see  other  folks  so  intellectual 
and  I  a  confounded  fool,  but  then,  what  was  the  use  of 
feeling  bad  about  it  ?  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  best  way  is  to  enjoy  all  we  can  on  our  own  account, 
and  all  we  can  on  other  folks'  account,  under  all  circum 
stances  ;  and  if  the  circumstances  don't  suit  us,  why,  then 
do  what  we  can  to  make  'em  better.  Hilltown  Academy 


Boiling  Sap.  137 

is  a  good  school,  I  reckon,  bj.it  I  think  as  likely  as  not  that 
this  maple  grove  is  a  better  one  for  you  just  now.  You 
are  learning  to  do  things  on  your  own  account.  I'll  back 
you,  my  boy,  against  the  best  of  'em  at  Hilltown.  I  know 
'em.  Ye  see  I  go  there  after  paper  rags,  and  1  get  a  heap. 
It's  one  of  the  best  places  on  my  whole  route,  —  not  many 
pelts  or  sheep  skins,  but  lots  of  paper  stuff.  Ye  see  where 
there  is  two  hundred  boys  and  girls  together  in  one  insti 
tution,  there  will  be  a  lot  of  writing  going  on.  I  pick  up 
stuff  enough  to  fill  my  old  cart  chock  full.  It  is  real 
entertaining  when  I've  nothing  else  to  do,  and  am  sorting 
over  rags,  on  rainy  days,  to  read  the  compositions  of  the 
young  ladies.  I've  speculated  a  good  deal  as  to  what  a 
girl's  mind  is  made  of,  it  seems  so  sort  of  moonshiny  like. 
They  almost  always  write  about  flowers,  moonbeams,  the 
sighing  winds,  golden  sunlight  on  the  clouds,  shedding  the 
parting  tear,  and  meeting  in  a  better  world, — just  as  if  they 
were  going  to  die  in  a  few  days,  when  every  one  of  'em 
expects  to  be  a  grandmarm  !  I  don't  understand  it.  Girls 
are  queer  creeters.  Some  of  'em  pull  the  wool  over  a  fel 
low's  eyes  before  he  knows  what  they  are  up  to." 

"  Perhaps  they  think  that  we  are  queer,  too,"  Caleb 
replied. 

"  I  dare  say,  and  I  reckon  that  some  of  the  chaps  at  the 
academy  do  get  rather  moonstruck,  judging  by  their  verses 
to  the  moon  and  Venus  and  Cupid.  Ever  so  many  of  'em 
write  verses  about  Cupid  shooting  his  darts.  Why  they 
should  do  it,  I  can't  tell,  and  I  don't  believe  they  can,  any 
more  than  the  girls  can  tell  why  they  write  so  much  about 
"  shedding  the  parting  tear."  If  you  ever  feel  like  writing 
any  love  poetry,  White  Hair,  just  call  on  me,  for  I've  got 
about  a  bushel  of  stuff,  and  may  be  after  you  read  it  you 
won't  want  to  write." 


1 3$  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Caleb  was  interested  in  what  Dan  was  saving,  for,  on 
several  occasions,  while  ga/ing  r.'.  the  moon  and  thinking 

<r*  cj  O 

of  Linda,  he  had  wished  he  could  put  his   thoughts  into 
poetry. 

As  Caleb  watched  the  fires  day  by  day,  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  lu  ha.l  it  in  his  po'.ver  to  make  every 
body  in  Millbrook  happy,  by  inviting  them  to  a  sugaring- 
off. 

"  Do  it,  my  son,"  saicl  Captain  Krinkle  ;  "  invite  every 
body.  Don't  forget  the  old  folks.  Do  your  best,  Caleb, 
to  make  everybody  happy,  if  you  want  to  promote  your 
own  happiness." 

"I  will  help  you,"  said  Dan,  who  entered  into  the 
project  with  all  his  heart. 

"Come  over,  all  of  you,  and  bring  everybody  else,"  was 
Caleb's  message  to  Moses,  Bell,  Ben,  Daisy  and  Mary  at 
Hilltown. 

The  day  before  the  one  selected  for  the  sugaring-off, 
Linda  tripped  down  the  hill  to  the  farm-house,  laid  aside 
her  bonnet,  put  on  a  white  apron,  and  rolled  up  her 
sleeves,  to  help  Deborah  about  baking  the  bread  and  frying 
the  doughnuts.  They  heated  the  great  brick  oven, 
kneaded  the  dough,  put  what  they  could  into  pans  for 
baking,  and  prepared  the  remainder  for  doughnuts.  Little 
Maid  stood  at  the  moulding-board,  rolled  the  dough,  cut 
it  lengthwise  in  narrow  strips,  and  then  crosswise,  doubling 
and  twisting  the  pieces,  then  handed  them  over  to  Deborah, 
who  put  them  into  the  fry-kettle,  and  turned  them  with 
the  skimmer  when  sufficiently  browned. 

Occasionally  Caleb  found  time  to  drop  into  the  kitchen 
to  see  how  they  were  getting  on,  and  what  a  vision  it  was  ! 
Little  Maid  with  her  white  apron  on,  her  pearly  arms  bare 


Boiling  Sap.  139 

to  the  elbow,  n  light  flush  on  her  check,  her  hair  hanging 
down  her  back  i:i  braids  and  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon  ! 
Yu;h  the  sunshine  lyi:i:j  alon^  the  lloor,  ihe  room  was  filled 
\vi:h  brightness. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SUGARING    OFF. 

TWO  o'clock  was  the  appointed  hour,  but  the  young 
folks  could  not  wait  for  it ;  soon  after  one  they  were 
in  the  sugar-orchard  where  Caleb  was  tending  the  kettles. 
Dan  was  there  in  advance  of  them,  popping  corn,  while  Deb 
orah  and  Linda  were  cutting  the  loaves  of  bread  into  slices 
and  spreading  them  with  butter. 

There  was  a  procession  of  sleighs  winding  up  the  hills, 
bringing  men,  women  and  children.  Mr.  Fielding  came 
with  his  wood-sled  piled  with  people.  He  stopped  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  and  the  boys,  who  had  brought  their  hand- 
sleds  to  have  a  good  time  at  coasting,  fastened  them  behind 
the  team, — a  dozen  or  more,  lite  a  train  of  cars,  —  each  sled 
carrying  a  boy  or  girl,  hurrahing  as  the  horses  pulled 
them  up  the  hill.  There  was  mischief  in  Mr.  Fielding's  eyes, 
when,  at  the  top,  he  cracked  his  whip,  and  the  horses 
starting  quickly,  broke  the  cord  between  the  foremost  sled 
and  the  team,  and  the  entire  train  went  down  the  hill  helter- 
skelter  to  the  bottom,  everybody  laughing  and  shouting  and 
declaring  that  never  before  had  they  enjoyed  such  fun. 

Deacon  Goodman  harnessed  his  horses,  drove  around  to  all 
the  houses,  and  picked  up  the  old  men  and  women  and  the 
feeble  ones,  wrapping  them  in  buffalo  robes  and  blankets. 

140 


Sugaring  Off.  141 

He  brought  Mrs.  Fair,  and  gave  her  a  sunny  seat,  where  she 
could  sit  and  see  Caleb  tending  the  kettles,  Dan  popping 
corn,  and  Deborah  and  Linda  buttering  the  bread  and  ar 
ranging  saucers  and  spoons. 

They  heard  a  jingling  of  sleigh-bells  down  the  road,  and 
saw  a  team  with  four  horses  on  the  trot,  and  a  big  boat  on 
runners.  It  was  "Cleopatra's  Barge,"  the  great  Hilltown 
sleigh,  with  Moses,  Ben,  Bell,  Daisy,  Mary,  and  twenty  more 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  the  academy. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  shouted  Moses,  jumping  out  and  shaking 
hands  with  Caleb. 

"There  is  a  lot  of  us ;  we'll  lick  your  kettles  dry,  see  if  we 
don't,"  said  Ben. 

"  I  only  wish  the  whole  school  was  here,"  said  Caleb,  in 
his  enthusiasm. 

Moses  presented  his  friends  to  Caleb. 

"Mr.  Flipkin,  from  New  York,"  said  Moses,  introducing  a 
young  man  who  wore  an  eye-glass,  and  carried  a  rattan 
cane,  with  a  dog's  head  in  ivory  on  the  top  of  the  handle. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  This  is  really  a  primitive 
occasion,"  said  Mr.  Flipkin,  whipping  his  right  leg  with  his 
rattan.  He  wore  a  glossy  hat,  yellow  kid  gloves,  and  a  sky 
blue  necktie,  with  a  gold  ring  upon  it.  He  unbuttoned  his 
overcoat  to  get  at  his  perfumed  handkerchief  in  the  pocket 
of  his  purple  velveteen  jacket,  and  Caleb  saw  that  he  had  a 
heavy  gold  chain  with  charms  and  seals  dangling  from  it. 
He  was  also  cultivating  a  moustache.  There  were  not 
many  hairs  on  his  lip,  but  he  made  the  most  of  the  few  that 
were  there  by  stroking  them  with  his  thumb  and  finger. 

"Miss  Bertha  Wayland,  from  Boston,"  said  Moses,  intro 
ducing  a  beautiful  girl  about  his  own  age,  who  wore  a  fur 
.  cloak  and  cap,  and  was  richly  dressed. 
,    She  had  bright,  hazel  eyes. and  dark-brown  hair,  and  there 


142  Caleb  Knnklc. 

was  n  mello\v  ripeness  on  lier  cheek,  heightened  by  the  excite 
ment  and  pleasure  of  the  hour. 

"  How  good  it  was  of  you,  Mr.  Krinkle,  to  invite  us,"  said 
Miss  Wayland.  "This  is  a  new  and  delightful  experience  to 
me." 

There  was  something  about  her  voice  that  thrilled  Caleb. 
He  was  charmed  by  its  melody,  and  \vas  captivated  by  her 
beauty. 

"I  thought  that  it  would  be  pleasant  for  my  o!d  school 
mates  to  invite  some  of  their  friends,''  Caleb  replied  with 
some  confusion,  not  knowing  exactly  what  he  said. 

''It  was  very  thoughtful  in  you,  I  am  sure.  I  have  always 
lived  in  the  c:ty  and  never  saw  any  thing  of  the  kind  be 
fore." 

Moses  introduced  the  rest  of  the  party.  There  wns  a 
sparkling  young  lady  from  Down  Mast,  known  among  her 
mates  at  school  as  the  ''.Morning  (I!ory,"  another  tVqin  Ou; 
West. — a  tall,  wide-awake  girl,  whom  they  called  the  "Prairie 
Flower." 

Sympathetic  relations  were  rpiekly  established  between 
Miss  \Vay!a:id  and  l.inda.  They  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes,  grasped  each  other's  hands,  and  were  as  well  acquainted 
as  if  they  had  dandled  rag-babies  together  through  their 
childhood. 

"1  should  think  that  you  would  be  very  happy  living  here, 
where  you  can  hear  the  birds  sing  in  summer,  and  where  you 
can  ga/e  out  upon  the  great  blue  mountains,"  said  MISJ 
Waylaml. 

"  1  should  be  very  happy  if  my  mother  didn't  suffer  such 
pain.  She  has  the  rheumatism,  and  cannot  help  herself  mucn. 
She  says  I  am  her  little  maid.  She  is  here  this  afternoon 
and  1  want  you  to  see  her,"  said  Linda,  leading  Miss  Way- 
land  to  her  mother,  who  was  receiving  the  congratulations  ui" 


Sugaring  Of.  143 

everybody ;  for  there  was  not  a  person  in  Millbrook  that  did 
not  look  upon  Mrs.  Fair  as  a  saint  ripe  for  heaven. 

"I  am  pleased  to  see  you,  Miss Wayland,"  said  Mrs.  Fair. 
"  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  come  over  to  Caleb's  party.  He 
is  making  us  all  very  happy  to-day.  We  never  shall  be  able  to 
repay  him." 

Others  came  to  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Fair,  and  the  t\vo 
girls  stepped  aside  to  give  them  a  place. 

"  Oh,  \vhat  a  dear  mother  you  have  ! "  said  Miss  Wayland, 
who  had  been  ga/ing  upon  the  face  so  f.i'.l  of  peace  though 
marked  with  pain.  "  I  was  a  very  little  baby  when  my 
mother  died,  and  Aunt  Janet  is  all  the  mother  I  have  ever 
known.  She  is  very  goad,  but  I  don't  think  she  is  what  my 
mother  would  have  been.  My  father  is  rich  and  1  have 
every  thing  that  I  want,  except  a  mj'.hjr's  love.  Aunt  Jane: 
cannot  be  to  me  what  your  mother  is  to  yo  i." 

'•  1  love  my  father  and  mother  dearly.  Father  is  a  black 
smith,  and  works  hard  ;  there  is  his  shop,  tiiat  little  old 
•wooden  building,*'  said  Linda,  pointing  toward  the  vil 
lage;  "and  there  is  where  we  live,  up  there  in  that  little- 
cottage.  1  should  like  u-  have  you  see  our  (lowers.  They 
stand  in  the  sun  by  the  south  win  low,  a:rl  they  are  very 
beautiful.  Mother  says  that  truy  m  ixj  her  ihink  of  Para 
dise.  The  birds  come  in  the  spring  and  sit  in  the  trees 
close  by  and  sing  to  her,  and  she  can  hear  the  music  of 
the  waterfall  by  the  mill,  a:ul  the  win  1  waving  the  trees. 
and  the  bell  when  it  stiikes  the  hou/  ;  and  then  she  can 
hear  father's  hammer  on  the  anvil,  and  knows  that  he  is  a; 
work  for  both  of  us.  The  neighbors  are  very  kind.  Mr. 
Krir.kle  takes  her  out  to  ride  in  the  summer.  Mother  s\vs 
it  seems  as  if  everybody  was  commissioned  to  wait  upon 
her.  I  sometimes  think  that  this  world  is  almost  like 
heaven  to  her." 


144  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Miss  Wayland  looked  at  Lincla  with  wondering  eyes 
without  replying. 

Caleb's  father  and  mother  now  arrived.  They  were  the 
last  of  the  party. 

"We  are  Caleb's  guests,  as  all  the  rest  of  you  are,"  they 
said  when  they  came. 

"  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  such  a  son,"  said  Deacon 
Goodman  to  Mrs.  Krinkle. 

"  I  trust  that  I  am  thankful  for  him.  and  only  hope  that 
he  will  grow  up  to  be  a  good  man,"  Mrs.  Krinkle  replied. 

"  It  is  done  enough  for  larbo  !  "  shouted  Dan.  The  word 
"larbo  "  will  not  be  found  in  the  dictionary,  but  everybody 
in  Millbrook  knew  what  it  meant,  —  that  the  molasses  was 
boiled  just  enough  to  be  cooled  into  candy  on  the  snow. 
There  was  a  scampering  for  saucers  and  spoons.  Bell, 
Mary  and  Daisy,  Job  and  Moses  waited  on  their  friends 
from  Hilltown,  supplying  them  with  bread  and  doughnuts. 

"  Oh,  how  delicious!  "  said  Miss  Wayland. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  if  I  ever  tasted  any  thing  so  nice  !  "  said 
Mr.  Flipkin. 

Dan  had  prepared  coffee,  which  was  now  passed  round 
in  tin  cups. 

Stories  were  told,  jokes  cracked,  and  all  did  what  they 
could  to  make  everybody  else  very  happy. 

The  party  from  Hilltown,  who  never  before  had  seen  "  a 
sugaring-off,"  watched  Dan's  movements  while  they  were 
eating  the  corn-balls.  The  molasses  was  slowly  boiling. 
If  the  fire  was  too  hot,  he  reduced  the  heat  by  hold 
ing  a  shovel  full  of  snow  against  the  bottom  of  the 
kettles.  He  stirred  a  spoonful  of  molasses  in  a  cup,  held 
it  to  the  light,  touched  it  to  his  tongue,  then  suddenly  put 
put  the  fire  and  stirred  the  mass  in  the  kettle  with  all  his 
might,  using  a  great  wooden  spoon,  and  it  changed  as  if 
by  magic  into  sugar. 


Sugaring  Off.  145 

"It  is  perfectly  splendid!  "  said  the  girl  from  Illinois. 

"  How  very  interesting,"  said  Miss  Way  land. 

"  It  is  a  sweet  operation,"  said  the  girl  from  Down  East, 
who  was  given  to  punning. 

While  the  party  were  watching  Dan,  Moses  took  Caleb 
aside  to  tell  him  about  his  Hilltown  friends,  and  especially 
about  Miss  Wayland  and  Mr.  Flipkin. 

"They  say,"  he  said  confidentially,  "that  Miss  Wayland 
is  one  of  the  richest  girls  in  Boston.  She  is  an  only  child. 
Her  father  has  ships  at  sea,  sailing  to  India  and  China, 
bringing  home  silks  and  teas,  camel's  hair  shawls  and  ele 
phants'  tusks,  and  all  sorts  of  rich  things.  He  owns  a  great 
house  on  Beacon  street,  and  has  ever  so  much  money  in 
the  bank,  and  belongs  to  one  of  the  first  families.  Miss 
Wayland  is  the  handsomest  girl  at  Hilltown.  All  the 
boys  are  dead  in  love  with  her,  of  course,  but  I  cut  them 
out ;  she  came  over  on  my  invitation." 

Now  that  Moses  had  cut  loose  from  Millbrook,  and  had 
gone  out  into  the  great  world,  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
and  Caleb  should  be  at  odds.  He  could  afford  to  be  thus 
confidential,  for  Caleb  would  see  that  he  was  getting  up  in 
life. 

"  And  Flipkin,"  Moses  continued,  "  is  the  son  of  a  rich 
New  York  banker.  He  is  a  first-rate  fellow,  spends  money 
like  a  prince.  We  have  high  old  times  together,  playing 
cards  when  the  teachers  think  that  we  are  studying  hard 
or  else  snoozing  in  bed." 

The  boys  who  had  brought  their  sleds,  having  hail  all 
the  sugar,  bread  and  butter,  doughnuts  and  pop-corn  they 
could  swallow,  were  sliding  clown  the  hill.  Miss  Wayland 
saw  them  steering  their  sleds  over  a  gleaming  track,  adroit 
ly  past  a  tree  and  hollow  on  one  hand  and  a  rock  on  the  other. 
Midway  the  hill  there  was  a  sharp  knoll,  which  was  a  try- 
10 


146  Caleb  Krinkle. 

ing  place  to  inexperienced  coasters.  If  a  sled  was  brought 
upon  it  at  the  proper  angle,  it  would  glide  gracefully  over 
and  descend  the  slope  beyond  with  the  swiftness  of  the 
wind,  but  if  through  any  miscalculation  it  did  not  come 
upon  the  knoll  at  the  right  place,  ihe  coaster  found  him 
self  tumbling  headlong  into  a  snowdrift,  or  else  rolling  help 
lessly  down  the  hill. 

"  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  do  that!  "  said  Miss  Wayland, 
as  she  saw  a  boy  glide  over  the  knoll,  down  the  steeper 
slope  beyond,  and  out  upon  the  pond,  almost  to  the  farther 
shore.     There  were  not  many  coasters  that  could  accom 
plish- it;  most  of  them  plunged  into  the  snowdrift. 

•'  Shall  I  have  the  supreme  felicity  of  being  your  escort 
on  this  delightful  occasion?  "  said  Mr.  Flipkin,  who  had 
borrowed  a  sled  and  was  anxious  to  show  Miss  Wayland 
how  nicely  he  could  do  it. 

She  hesitated,  for  of  all  that  had  gone  down  the  hill, 
one  only  had  escaped  shipwreck.  She  did  not  quite  care 
to  be  plunged  headlong  into  the  snow  with  Mr.  Flipkin, 
with  the  Prairie  Flower,  who  was  a  great  tease,  and  all  of 
the  rest  of  her  mates  and  all  Millbrook,  spectators  of  the 
scene. 

"  It  will  give  me  pleasure  to  guide  the  sled  for  you,"  said 
Caleb. 

"  Won't  you  tumble  me  into  the  snow  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  promise  you.  I  have  been  over  the  knoll 
many  times  and  I  think  I  can  take  you  over  all  right." 

"  Please  go  with  me,  Miss  Wayland.  I've  coasted  ever  so 
many  times  on  the  Central  Park  down  the  hill  by  the 
Ramble,  and  I  assure  you  I  can  do  it  as  well  as  that  fellow 
has  who  has  just  gone  over  like  a  streak  of  lightning,"  said 
Mr.  Flipkin. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Flipkin,  but  I  think  I  will  accept  Mr. 
Krinkle's  invitation." 


Sugaring  Off.  147 

Mr.  Flipkin  became  very  red  in  the  face,  for  he  had  not 
counted  upon  being  cut  out  by  a  country  boy,  and  that  too 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  Hilltown  party  and  all  Millbrook 
besides. 

"  I  bow  to  the  decision  of  the  Queen  of  Beauty,"  he 
replied,  stepping  one  side  to  see  how  the  green  country 
chap  would  get  on  with  the  Boston  heiress. 

"  It  will  be  my  first  experience,"  said  Miss  Wayland. 
"  I  have  always  been  in  Boston  till  this  winter,  and  though 
there  is  sometimes  excellent  coasting  on  the  Common, 
where  the  boys  start  from  the  top  of  the  hill  in  front  of 
the  State  House  and  slide  half-way  to  Boylston  street, 
of  course  we  girls  can't  do  it.  I  have  wished  ever  so 
many  times  that  I  was  a  boy,  so  that  I  shouldn't  have  to 
be  always  prim  and  proper.  Aunt  Janet  is  constantly 
saying  that  I  must  behave  with  propriety,  which  means  that 
I  mustn't  slide  down  hill." 

"  I  do  it,"  said  Linda. 

Miss  Wayland  seated  herself  on  the  sled.  Caleb  sat 
down  behind  her,  his  feet  projecting  over  the  rear  of  the 
sled,  with  his  chin  almost  resting  on  her  left  shoulder. 

She  gathered  her  dress  about  her  and  clasped  his  arm. 

"  Good-by,  all  of  you  ;  I'm  going  on  an  unknown  journey," 
she  said  to  her  friends. 

"  Please  light  upon  a  soft  place  when  you  go  into  the 
snow-drift,"  said  Flipkin,  waving  his  perfumed  handker 
chief  as  they  started. 

They  moved  gently  at  first,  then  faster,  faster  and  still 
faster.  The  sled  was  shod  with  cast  steel,  and  the  polished 
runners  glided  over  the  glassy  track,  leaving  no  mark 
behi;id. 

Faster,  still  faster,  gaining  upon  those  who  had  started 
in  advance,  whose  sleds  were  shod  with  iron.  Swifter 
than  the  wind  they  flew. 


148  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Oh,  I  am  afraid  !  "  said  Miss  Wayland. 

"  I  will  bring  you  out  all  right.  Hold  on  firmly  as  we 
go  over  the  knoll."  They  were  past  the  rock,  past  one 
sled,  up  even  with  another.  The  thought  that  they  were 
outstripping  the  others  stirred  her  blood. 

Why  ?  Why  is  it  that  bone  and  muscle  in  a  horse,  the 
getting  round  the  course  one-quarter  of  a  second  in  ad 
vance  of  a  dozen  othtv  horses,  who  are  neck  and  neck, 
should  cause  one  hundred  thousand  people  to  split  their 
throats  at  Epsom,  or  Saratoga,  or  anywhere  else,  and  make 
some  men  millionnaires.  and  send  others  to  the  dogs,  losing 

O      '  O 

houses,  lands,  ease,  comfort,  happiness  and  manhood,  bring 
ing  in  poverty,  misery,  degradation,  broken  households, 
broken  hearts,  to  say  nothing  of  the  blowing  out  of  brains  ? 
Why  is  it  that  this  desire  to  get  ahead,  ou  a  Mississippi 
steamboat,  so  stirs  men's  blood  that  they  are  willing  to  take 
the  chances  of  going  piecemeal  into  the  air?  To  get  ahead 
in  the  race,  to  experience  the  thrill,  the  exultation,  the 
intoxication,  how  it  warms  the  heart,  raises  the  spirits,  and 
fills  the  soul  with  ecstasy ! 

It  was  a  new  experience  to  the  light-hearted  young 'lady, 
whose  whole  life  had  been  squared  to  Aunt  Janet's  injunc 
tion, —  to  behave  properly.  The  exhilaration  brought  a 
brighter  radiance  to  her  beaming  eyes. 

"  Please  don't  let  me  get  shipwrecked,"  she  said,  as  they 
went  on  with  increasing  swiftness  toward  the  spot  where 
the  boys  one  after  another  were  turning  topsy-turvy. 

"  Hold  on  !  here  we  come  to  it,"  was  Caleb's  only  reply. 
He  touched  the  ground  gently  with  the  toe  of  his  boot. 
It  was  but  a  light  touch  and  for  an  instant  only,  but  it 
carried  them  round  a  ctuve,  along  the  side  of  the  knoll, 
over  it  as  if  they  had  taken  to  themselves  wings. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  glorious  !  "  Miss  Wayland  exclaimed. 


Sugaring  Off.  149 

Down  the  steep  slope,  over  the  bank,  out  upon  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  pond,  they  flew  with  a  momentum 
that  sent  them  almost  to  the  farther  shore,  and  then,  not 
allowing  her  to  get  off,  he  drew  her  back  again  across  the 
pond,  passing  over  the  spot  where  on  that  sunny  summer 
day,  in  the  years  gone  by,  he  went  down  beneath  the 
waters. 

"  It  was  right  down  here  beneath  us,"  said  Caleb,  as  he 
stopped  and  told  the  story. 

"What  a  noble  fellow  Dan  must  be,  and  what  a  brave- 
hearted  girl  Linda  is.  I  loved  her  the  moment  I  saw 
her,"  said  Miss  Wayland. 

Mr.  Flipkin  had  watched  them  from  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  their  success  but  quickened  his  desire  to  let  the  peo 
ple  know  that  he  could  do  a  thing  or  two.  Perhaps  the 
reflection  that  Miss  Wayland  had  chosen  Caleb  instead  of 
himself  had  something  to  do  with  it.  Would  it  not  be 
delightful  to  be  able  to  tell  his  city  cousins  of  the  jolly 
time  he  had  had  sliding  down  hill  with  the  blooming 
country  damsels?  Linda  was  the  fairest  of  them  all.  She 
was  not  so  rollicking  as  Bell  Blossom,  but  she  was  wide 
awake,  and  had  been  tripping  through  the  crowd,  looking 
after  everybody's  wants,  as  if  mistress  of  the  occasion. 

"  Miss  Fair,  shall  I  have  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  your 
company  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Linda.  Many  a  time  had  she  been 
down  the  course  with  Caleb.  Many  times  had  she  guided 
the  sled  herself  over  the  knoll,  and  was  confident  that  she 
could  do  it  again. 

"  Here  we  go,  hooray !"  shouted  Mr.  Flipkin,  as  they 
moved  away.  The  sled  was  leaving  the  track.  An  itch  of 
vanity  seized  him  ;  he  would  let  the  country  folks  know 
and  his  Hill  town  friends  see  that  he  could  steer.  He  put 
his  foot  upon  the  ground,  the  sled  shot  from  the  path. 


150  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Hullo  !  Flipkin  !  where  are  you  going  to  ? "  shouted 
one  of  his  friends. 

"There  is  a  rock  on  one  side  and  a  hollow  on  the  other," 
said  Linda,  who  saw  that  the  chances  were  that  they  might 
come  to  grief. 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  only  you  must  steer  between  them,"  said 
Linda. 

"All  right." 

But  it  wasn't  all  right,  for  in  attempting  to  avoid  Scylla  he 
ran  straight  into  Charybdis.  In  giving  the  rock  a  wide  berth, 
he  plunged  into  the  hollow.  They  shot  over  the  edge,  struck 
upon  the  other  side  with  a  jounce  that  jostled  Flipkin  from 
his  seat.  He  turned  a  somersault  and  then  went  sliding 
on  his  back  over  the  ice  and  crust  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill, 
with  his  hat  jammed  down  over  his  eyes,  his  velvet  jacket 
sadly  torn,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rents  in  his  pantaloons. 
Although  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  stars  were  blinking  in 
his  sky.  He  succeeded  in  lifting  his  hat  after  several  efforts, 
and  looked  around  for  Linda,  and  saw  her  gliding  across  the 
pond.  She  had  maintained  her  seat,  had  guided  the  sled 
adroitly,  hearing  all  Milforook  laughing  and  shouting  behind 
her  to  see  how  gracefully  she  had  dropped  Mr.  Flipkin,  like 
a  piece  of  baggage,  on  the  way. 

But  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west.  The  people  thanked 
Caleb  for  the  pleasure  he  had  given  them,  and  took  their  depar 
ture. 

"The  credit  belongs  in  a  great  measure  to  Dan,"  said  Ca 
leb. 

There  was  a  shaking  of  hands  and  saying  of  good-byes  with 
the  Hilltown  party. 

"  1  want  to  tell  you,  Miss  Fair,  that  I  love  you,"  said  Miss 
Wa}  aid,  putting  her  arm  around  Linda.  "Mr.  Krinkle  has 


Sugaring   Off.  151 

been  telling  me  how  you  and  Mr.  Dishaway,  or  Dan,  as  you 
call  him,  saved  his  life.  What  a  dear,  good,  brave  girl  you 
arc." 

"  I  only  did  what  my  heart  prompted  me  to  do ;  if  there 
is  any  praise  due  any  one,  it  is  to  Dan ;  but  please  call  me 
Linda." 

"And  you  call  me  Bertha,  and  let  us  be  friends  forever." 
And  the  covenant  was  sealed  on  the  instant  with  a  kiss. 

"  Mr.  Krinkle,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  have  enjoyed 
this  day.  It  is  a  new  experience.  I  shall  remember  it  for 
ever,  and  I  want  to  thank  you  for  it  all." 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  have  been  able  to  give  you  any  pleasure," 
Caleb  replied. 

Now  and  then  we  hear  a  strain  of  music  which  remains 
forever  in  memory ;  weeks,  months  and  years  may  pass,  but 
the  sweet  melody  will  still  be  falling  on  our  ears.  The  music 
of  Miss  Wayland's  voice  was  like  an  adagio  or  an  andante 
of  Beethoven. 

The  Hilltown  team  was  waiting.  Caleb  gave  Miss  Way- 
land  his  hand  and  she  stepped  into  the  great  sleigh,  which 
had  come  down  the  hill  and  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  bottom. 
The  driver  cracked  his  whip,  the  four  horses  that  were  impa 
tiently  champing  their  bits  sprung  to  their  traces ;  there  was 
a  waving  of  handkerchiefs,  cheers  and  good-byes,  and  then 
"Cleopatra's  Barge,"  with  its  laughing  crew,  disappeared 
down  the  road. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

POETIC    DAYS. 

HE  roses  were  blooming  by  the  pathway  that  led  from 
JL  the  street  to  the  blacksmith's  house,  the  morning  glo 
ries  were  climbing  toward  the  windows,  the  air  was  fragrant 
with  perfume,  and  the  birds  were  singing  in  the  trees,  but 
Linda's  mother,  who  had  ever  enjoyed  the  beautiful  in  nature, 
who  had  listened  with  rapture  to  the  twittering  of  the  swal 
lows  and  to  all  the  feathered  songsters,  was  no  longer  there. 
She  had  passed  away,  and  Linda  and  Mr.  Fair  were  the  sole 
occupants  of  the  cottage. 

The  cloth  upon  the  table  was  as  white  and  clean  as  ever, 
the  room  as  neat  and  tidy,  for  Little  Maid  was  about  the 
house  from  morning  till  night.  With  cheerful  resignation 
Little  Maid  took  up  the  duties  of  life  just  as  they  came  to 
her  day  by  day.  She  was  no  longer  a  girl,  but  seemingly 
had  passed  at  once  into  maidenhood.  No  one  thought  of 
her  as  being  handsome.  Bell,  Daisy  and  Mary  and  sev 
eral  other  girls  would  sooner  have  been  selected  as  types 
of  beauty,  but  still  there  was  that  about  her,  a  grace  of  man 
ner,  a  light  upon  her  beaming  face,  that  made  her  beautiful. 
She  filled  the  little  cottage  .vith  the  brightness  of  her  pres 
ence.  When  she  walked  down  the  street,  Millbrook  was  all 
the  more  beautiful  because  she  was  there,  and  those  who 


Poetic  Days.  153 

saw  her  going  into  the  meeting-house  on  Sunday  morning, 
thought  of  her  as  sanctifying  the  place  by  her  goodness. 
The  young  men,  and  several  men  in  middle  life,  thought  it 
worth  while  to  be  early  at  church  to  obtain  a  sight  of  her 
fair  face,  to  gaze  upon  the  brown  hair  neatly  parted  on 
her  brow,  and  catch  the  gleam  of  the  soul  beauty  in  her 
eyes.  They  raised  their  hats  and  bowed  as  she  passed  up  the 
gravelled  walk.  When  the  bell  ceased  its  tolling  they  went  in 
and  sat  where  they  could  have  a  good  view  of  her  in  the  sing 
ers'  seats.  No  matter  how  calm  and  peaceful  the  day,  her 
presence  made  it  all  the  more  peaceful.  If  perchance 
she  was  not  at  meeting,  they  had  a  sense  of  something  gone 
which  they  could  ill  afford  to  lose.  Then  the  singing  was 
spiritless  and  the  sermon  dull  and  prosy.  If  the  sky  was 
overcast  on  Sunday  morning  and  the  day  promised  to  be 
gloomy,  there  were  some  who  went  to  meeting  because  the 
house  would  be  filled  with  sunshine  if  Linda  were  there.  It 
would  be  more  pleasant  there  than  at  home.  So  it  came 
about  that  some  young  gentlemen  attended  meeting  not  be 
cause  they  loved  to  join  in  the  worship,  or  because  the  min 
ister  preached  eloquent  sermons,  but  because  Linda  illumi 
nated  the  place. 

Caleb  was  a  member  of  the  choir,  and  if  perchance 
there  came  a  duet  between  the  soprano  and  tenor,  and 
Mr.  Clef,  the  organist  and  leader,  said  "  Miss  Fair  and 
Mr.  Krinklc  will  sing  the  duet,"  it  put  him  on  his  mettle 
to  do  his  best.  With  Linda  to  lead  him  he  could  not  fail. 
Ey  the  sweetness  of  her  voice,  by  her  goodness  and  purity, 
by  her  conception  of  truth,  she  lifted  him  up,  as  it  were, 
to  a  higher  plane  of  life. 

Autumn  came.  There  was  a  mellow  light  upon  the 
hills  and  a  deepening  haze  in  the  valleys.  The  swallows 


154  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

that  had  wheeled  in  graceful  circles,  the  blue-birds  which 
had  been  first  to  arrive  in  spring,  the  thrushes  and  the 
bob-o-links  which  had  made  the  month  of  June  melodi 
ous  with  their  songs,  the  robins,  orioles  and  finches,  the 
whole  chorus  of  summer  songsters  which  had  been  singing 
the  Jubilate  Deo,  were  gone  from  forest  and  field  to  their 
far-off  Southern  homes.  ''The  crows  and  jays  remained. 
They  were  calling  to  one  another  in  the  woods,  as  if  afraid 
of  getting  lost  in  the  solitude.  The  crickets  were  chirping 
their  farewells  in  the  sheltered  nooks,  but  there  was  a 
hushed  stillness  on  mountain  and  meadow.  The  days 
were  shortening,  and  the  shadows  at  nightfall  crept  quickly 
down  into  the  valley.  Marvellous  the  changes !  The 
elms  and  birches  had  robed  themselves  in  buff,  the  oaks  in 
russet,  the  beeches  in  citron  and  gold,  the  maples  in  rose, 
ruby  and  scarlet,  in  sorrel,  claret  and  damask,  in  carna 
tion,  magenta,  carbuncle  and  crimson,  in  vermeil  dyes  nf 
every  hue,  in  purple  and  plum,  in  orange  and  amber,  with 
veins  of  gold  and  filaments  of  silver.  They  were  mottled 
and  marbled,  dappled  and  clouded  with  russet  opal  and 
emerald.  How  wonderful  the  alchemy  of  nature,  which, 
almost  in  a  single  night,  can  put  on  such  richness  of  color, 
that  can  transform  the  bright  green  vestments  into  attire 
more  richly  embroidered  and  more  gorgeously  emblazoned 
than  any  garments  ever  worn  by  cardinal  or  king  ! 

Transparent  the  clays.  The  sky  was  without  a  cloud, 
and  the  declining  sun  shone  from  the  clear  blue  depths  of 
heaven  with  ineffable  sweetness. 

Why  it  was  he  did  not  know,  but  on  those  celestial  days 
Caleb  experienced  strange  and  undefined,  longings  after 
he  knew  not  what.  He  was  at  work  in  the  field  digging 
potatoes,  but  whenever  he  stopped  a  moment  to  gaze  upon 
the  wondrous  beauty,  his  eye  instinctively  turned  toward 


Poetic  Days.  155 

the  cottage  on  the  hill,  and  he  wondered  if  Linda  was 
looking  out  upon  the  scene,  or  if  she  experienced  similar 
longings  for  the  unattained.  It  seemed  as  if  the  crickets 
were  thinking  of  her,  for  they  were  saying  "  Linda,  Linda, 
Linda,"  as  if  hers  was  the  sweetest  name  on  earth  to  min 
gle  with  their  songs. 

And  at  night,  when  his  work  was  done,  Caleb  sat  be 
neath  the  old  elms  and  gazed  upon  the  light  fading  from 
the  western  sky,  and  beheld  the  growing  brightness  of  the 
evening  star  shining  in  the  heavens  above  her  house,  and 
he  thought  of  it  as  resting  as  the  star  in  the  East  had 
rested  above  the  holiest  spot  on  earth.  There  was  no 
other  place  where  he  would  offer  such  gifts  and  adoration 
as  at  the  feet  of  the  dear  girl  to  whom  he  owed  his  life. 
She  was  so  pure  and  good  that  he  thought  of  her  as  the 
counterpart  of  Eve  in  Eden  before  yielding  to  the  tempt 
er's  wiles.  Linda  was  the  personification  of  innocence. 

Caleb  called  upon  Linda  in  the  evening,  when  his  work 
was  done.  She  saw  him  before  he  reached  the  gate,  and 
went  down  the  walk  to  meet  him,  her  garments  brushing 
the  gladiola,  verbenas  and  geraniums  that  bordered  it, 
filling  the  air  with  their  perfume. 

"You  come  to  meet  me  as  Discretion  came  out  from  the 
palace  Beautiful  to  meet  Christian,"  said  Caleb. 

"Would  that  I  were  like  her,"  was  the  reply.  She  held 
out  both  hands  to  him  as  he  opened  the  gate.  They 
strolled  up  the  path  to  the  vine-shaded  porch. 

The  blacksmith  was  sitting  in  his  favorite  seat,  smoking 
his  pipe.  He  knocked  the  ashes  from  the  bowl,  laid  it 
upon  the  little  shelf  above  his  head,  and  shook  hands  with 
Caleb. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  come,  White  Hair,"  said  Mr. 


156  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Fair.  "  I  want  somebody  to  sing  with  us.  We  miss  mother 
sadly  when  we  come  to  singing.  But  it  is  a  comfort  to 
think  that  she  has  all  the  angels  of  God  and  the  good  of 
all  ages  to  sing  with  now,  instead  of  only  us  two.  I  can't 
get  along  without  singing.  I  don't  see  what  folks  do  that 
never  sing.  I  don't  wonder  they  grow  rusty  and  become 
like  old  iron." 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  he  continued,  "  this  power  of  the  hu 
man  voice  to  make  sweet  sounds,  to  express  ideas,  to  lift 
the 'soul  to  lofty  aspirations,  to  open,  as  it  were,  the  very 
gates  of  Paradise  !  If  the  human  voice  is  capable  of  such 
expression,  what  must  be  the  music  of  the  angels  ?  The 
morning  stars  sang  together  ;  the  angels  sang  when  Christ 
was  born  ;  there  will  be  a  great  multitude  singing  'Worthy 
is  the  Lamb '  and  shouting  '  Allelujah,'  and  why  people 
don't  sing  more  on  earth  I  can't  understand." 

There  was  no  voice  in  Mill  brook,  or  in  all  the  country 
round,  so  deep  and  rich  as  Mr.  Fair's.  It  was  like  the  di 
apason  of  an  organ.  There  was  no  soprano  voice  like 
Linda's. 

They  sang  together  while  the  twilight  faded.  They  sang 
till  the  sexton  rang  the  nine-o'clock  bell,  when  the  black 
smith  shook  hands  with  Caleb,  received  his  good-night  kiss 
from  Linda,  and  retired  to  his  room. 

How  delightful  to  Caleb  to  sit  there  beneath  the  over 
hanging  vine !  Ten  o'clock  came  before  he  was  aware  of 
it.  It  was  time  for  him  to  be  at  home;  and  time  for 
Linda  to  go  in  out  of  the  chill  night  air. 

The  good-night  that  was  spoken  —  he  heard  it  all  the 
way  down  the  hill.  As  he  thought  of  her  he  wished  that 
he  could  sing  her  praises,  —  that  he  could  put  into  verse 
what  the  crickets  were  singing.  Then  it  would  not  be 
merely  her  name,  "Linda,  Linda,  Linda,"  but  her  truth, 


Poetic  Days.  157 

goodness,  and  beauty.  If  the  crickets  never  changed  their 
notes,  if  it  was  never  Bell  or  Daisy,  it  was  because  Linda 
was  the  one  bright  being  on  earth  worthy  of  their  praise. 

Caleb  tried  to  write  out  the  thoughts  that  stirred  his  soul. 
It  was  hard  work.  He  could  feel  her  goodness  and  beauty, 
but  how  to  describe  her  was  not  so  easy.  He  could  think 
of  the  beauty  of  flowers,  the  richness  of  grapes,  of  Venus 
as  the  goddess  of  love,  of  a  clove  as  the  emblem  of  peace. 
He  sat  absorbed  in  thought,  his  pen  resting  on  his  paper, 
dipping  it  now  ai:d  then  into  the  ink,  writing  a  word, 
scratching  it  out,  thinking,  starting  anew,  endeavoring  thus 
to  woo  the  muse.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  poets 
must  select  their  rhyme  words  first,  then  fill  in  the  ideas. 
After  several  trials  he  settled  the  rhymes  in  the  order  of 


bowers, 

flowers, 

bright, 

night, 

dove, 

love. 


The  lines  were  reversed,  changed,  as  a  thrifty  housewife 
changes,  re-colors  and  makes  over  her  last  year's  dress. 
The  filling  was  re-written,  interlined,  erased  and  restored. 
Finally  he  decided  that  it  should  be  thus  :  — 

IMPROMPTU  TO  LINDA. 

"  Richer  than  grapes  upon  the  vine-clad  bowers, 
Fairer  than  all  the  blooming  summer  flowers, 
Or  Venus  in  the  azure  sky  so  bright, 
Is  Linda,  peerless  as  the  darkening  night, 
And  gentler  than  the  peaceful  dove, 
So  full  of  joy  and  life  and  love." 


158  Caleb  Krinkle. 

The  bell  was  striking  the  midnight  hour  when  he  fin 
ished  the  stanza.  He  read  it  over,  and  said  to  himself  that 
if  it  was  not  quite  equal  to  Tennyson's  it  would  compare 
favorably  with  a  good  deal  of  the  poetry  he  had  read.  So 
enraptured  was  he  by  the  theme,  that  he  could  think  only 
of  "peaceful  dove  "  and  "  life  and  love."  lie  tried  to  drop 
off  to  sleep  by  counting  the  ticks  of  the  old  clock  in  the 
kitchen.  He  counted  "  One,  two,  three,"  but  before  he  was 
up  to  fifty  it  was  "  life  and  love."  He  thought  of  sheep 
going  through  a  gate  one  at  a  time,  and  counted  them  as 
they  passed,  "One  —  two  —  three  —  four;"  so  far  they 
passed  slowly,  but  now  they  came  faster,  "five,  six,  seven," 
and  then  the  whole  flock  went  pellmell  through  the  pas 
sage,  and  he  was  more  wide  awake  than  ever! 

The  sun  was  shining  in  his  face  and  Deborah  shouting 
that  breakfast  was  ready  when  he  awoke.  He  could  not 
refrain  from  looking  at  the  lines  before  he  went  down 
stairs.  He  read  them  aloud,  but  their  measure  did  not 
appear  to  be  quite  so  melodious  as  when  he  finished  them. 
He  read  them  again  in  the  evening,  and  wished  that  he 
could  improve  the  last  lines.  He  dipped  his  pen  into  the 
ink  again  and  again,  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair  as 
he  meditated  upon  the  theme,  but  could  not  fashion  them 
to  his  liking. 

Then  there  came  the  remembrance  of  what  Dan  had 
said:  "If  you  ever  feel  like  writing  verses  about  Cupid  or 
Venus,  come  to  me.  I  have  a  bushel  of  poetry." 

He  dashed  his  pen  upon  the  table,  crumpled  the  immor 
tal  verse  in  his  hand,  and  held  it  in  the  candle's  flame  till 
it  turned  to  ashes,  and  said  while  doing  it, — 

"  If  the  thoughts  will  not  breathe,  the  words  will  burn, 
which  is  about  all  that  can  be  said  of  a  good  deal  of  the 
stuff  that  passes  for  poetry." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THANKSGIVING. 

"  The  compliments  of  Miss  Daisy  Davenport  to  Mr.  Caleb 
Krinkle  and  lady,  requesting  the  favor  of  their  company 
Thanksgiving  evening,  November  2jt/i." 

r  I  ^HE  note  was  daintily  written  upon  gilt-edged  paper 
JL  by  Daisy  herself.  Everybody  knew  that  she  was  to 
give  a  party  on  Thanksgiving  evening,  for  the  news  had 
gone  from  house  to  house.  Daisy's  companions  of  her 
own  sex  were  in  a  flutter  of  excitement.  What  dress 
should  they  wear,  delaine,  poplin  or  silk?  Which  would 
be  the  most  becoming,  a  pink,  blue  or  purple  ribbon? 
Should  they  do  up  their  hair  in  a  French  twist,  or  should 
they  frizzle  and  scramble  it? 

If  the  young  gentlemen  did  not  let  their  thoughts  run 
upon  such  vanities,  they  were  not  indifferent  to  the  forth 
coming  event.  They  gave  their  horses  extra  measures  of 
oats,  that  the  animals  might  be  in  good  spirit  on  Thanks 
giving  night;  braided  new  snappers  to  their  whips,  pur 
chased  bottles  of  bear's  grease  at  Mr.  Meek's  store,  spent 
more  time  than  usual  before  the  looking-glass,  while  shaving 
the  down  from  their  cheeks,  and  did  other  equally  sensible 
things  preparatory  to  the  approaching  evening. 

Caleb  had  so  many  things  to  do  about  the  farm  before 

159 


160  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

winter  set  in,  —  getting  the  sheep  from  the  pastures  and  the 
cattle  from  the  fields,  that  he  could  not  go  at  once,  as  he 
wished  to  do,  to  invite  Linda,  but  when  the  work  was  done, 
with  a  light  heart  he  hastened  up  the  hill  to  see  "  the  lady." 
With  a  bright  smile  Linda  welcomed  him  into  the  cheerful 
sitting-room.  Her  father  was  not  there,  and  they  could  have 
a  quiet  talk  by  themselves  he  thought.  "  She  knows  what  I 
have  come  for,"  said  Caleb  to  himself  as  he -saw  the  lighting 

7  O  O 

up  of  her  countenance. 

"  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  on  Thurs 
day  evening?"  he  asked. 

"Thank  you,  Caleb,  but  I  have  already  accepted  an  invi 
tation." 

"Accepted  an  invitation  !  " 

"Yes.  Mr.  Flipkin  has  come  over  with  Moses  to  spend 
the  vacation  here,  and  has  invited  me  to  go  with  him.  It 
would  have  given  me  quite  as  much  pleasure  to  have  gone 
with  you,  but  I  could  hardly  do  otherwise5;  than  accept  his 
invitation." 

"Mr.  Flipkin!" 

Caleb  was  surprised,  but  reflected  that  Mr.  Flipkin  was 
attending  school  at  Hill  town  with  Daisy,  and  it  was  quite 
natural  that  he  should  invite  her.  His  plans,  however, 
were  upset  by  the  intelligence. 

"Perhaps  I  can  tell  you  some  more  news,"  said  Linda. 
"That  beautiful  girl  from  Boston,  Miss  Bertha  Wayland,  is 
to  be  there.  She  has  come  over  to  spend  Thanksgiving 
with  Mary  Fielding,  and  Moses  has  invited  her  to  go  with 
him  to  Daisy's  party." 

This  was  a  revelation  indeed.  Moses  going  with  the 
Boston  heiress!  Henceforth  Moses  might  be  called  "the 
lucky  One  !  "  But  what  was  he  himself  :o  do  ?  Mr.  Flipkin 
had  secured  Linda,  —  was  already  in  Millbrook  stopping 


Thanksgiving.  1 6 1 

with  Moses,  and  the  two  were  roaming  through  the  woods 
shooting  partridges,  as  Linda  informed  him.  Whom 
should  he  carry  ?  He  was  provoked  already  with  Flipkin. 
What  right  had  he  to  step  in  and  secure  the  best  girl  in 
Millbrook?  Linda  saw  the  disappointment  revealed  in  his 
face. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Caleb,  that  things  have  turned  out  so,  but 
I  could  not  very  well  refuse  Mr.  Flipkin's  invitation  when 
Moses  came  with  him.  He  is  a  stranger  here,  you  know," 
said  Linda. 

"  Please  don't  think  that  I  blame  you,  Linda,  but  what 
am  I  to  do  ?  Who  is  there  that  I  can  invite  ?  The  girls 
have  all  been  picked  up  by  this  time." 

"  There  is  one  girl  who  I  think  hasn't  yet  been  invited, 
and  I  think  that  she  would  be  glad  to  go  with  you." 

"  Who  ? " 

'•  Bell,  and  I  want  to  talk  with  you  a  little  about  her.  I 
am  afraid  that  she  will  be  left  at  home  unless  you  carry 
her.  You  know  that  Moses  usually  has  been  her  escort, 
but  he  has  invited  Miss  Wayland,  and  Bell  feels  badly 
about  it.  She  don't  think  that  Moses  has  used  her  quite 
right,  and  more  than  that,  she  is  afraid  that  she  will  be  left 
out  in  the  cold." 

';  I  hope  not,"  said  Caleb. 

"  I  shall  not  enjoy  the  evening,"  Linda  replied,  "if  she  is 
not  there.  I  could  not  be  happy  if  I  knew  that  she  was 
at  home  alone  while  all  the  rest  of  us  were  enjoying  our 
selves." 

"If  she  will  go  with  me  I  will  see  that  she  is  there,'' 
Caleb  answered.  If  he  was  disappointed  in  not  having 
Linda  for  his  "lady,"  the  look  of  gratitude  that  she  gave 
him  when  she  knew  that  Bell's  happiness  was  assured, 
made  ample  amends. 
ii 


1 62  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  How  unselfish  she  is  !  Always  looking  after  the  hap 
piness  of  others,  never  thinking  of  herself!"  was  the 
thought  that  came  to  Caleb  as  he  proceeded  on  his  way  to 
invite  Bell. 

The  clay  came.  There  was  no  ringing  of  the  bell  so 
joyful  as  that  of  Thanksgiving  morning,  calling  the  people 
to  come  and  give  thanks  to  God  for  his  goodness  through 
the  year;  for  the  bountiful  harvest  that  had  been  garnered  : 
for  the  return  of  the  happy  clay;  for  the  reunion  of  friends ; 
for  unnumbered  blessings  bestowed.  The  fanners  and 
their  families  —  all  except  one  member  of  the  household 
who  stayed  at  home  to  look  after  the  turkeys  roasting  in  the 
ovens  —  came  to  meeting,  not  merely  to  hear  what  the 
minister  would  have  to  say,  and  hear  the  choir  sing  a 
Thanksgiving  anthem,  but  to  see  who  had  come  up  from 
Boston,  who  from  Down  East,  who  from  Out  West,  to  the 
old  homesteads.  They  would  shake  hands  with  old 
acquaintances  and  recall  the  past. 

The  bell  opened  its  brazen  lips,  now  toward  the  north, 
now  toward  the  south,  flinging  its  joyous  peals  far  away 
up  the  valley  toward  the  mountain,  clown  the  valley 
toward  the  plains.  "Welcome — welcome —  welcome!" 
clanged  the  iron  tongue.  The  maple  grove  took  up  the 
strain  and  sent  the  echo  to  the  other  side  of  the  river.  A 
distant  hill  repeated  it,  another  still  farther  away  rehearsed 
it  in  fainter  tones.  "  Welcome  to  the  old;  welcome  to  the 
young;  welcome  to  everybody!"  Old  men  with  tottering 
steps  crept  to  cottage  doors  to  hear  the  praises  in  the  air. 
"  God's  mercies"  said  the  bell  to  them.  They  thought  of 
another  twelvemonth  passed,  and  the  pilgrimage  not 
ended;  another  year  gone  by,  and  so  much  nearer  heaven  ! 
For  them  had  still  been  poured  the  wine  of  li'e.  Many 


Thanksgiving.  163 

times  the  weeping  trains  had  passed  the  church-yard 
gates  to  lay  the  precious  dust  of  clear  departed  friends 
beneath  the  bending  elms ;  fairest  flowers  had  faded ;  in 
fancy,  youth  and  manhood  had  gone  to  the  grave,  but 
they  weie  yet  alive  to  hear  the  story  of  God's  mercies 
swelling  on  the  air.  They  wept  and  smiled  by  turns,  re 
joicing  that  God's  hand  still  led  them  on. 

"  J°y  •  j°y  •  J0)' •  "  sa-id  the  bell  to  Caleb,  to  Linda,  to 
Daisy  and  all  their  mates;  —  joy  to-night,  joy  through  all 
the  coining  years.  The  silver  morning  shall  be  followed  by 
a  golden  eve  ;  after  the  sunny  day  shall  come  a  starlit  night. 

The  sermon  was  adapted  to  the  occasion,  the  anthem 
was  well  sung,  and  Miss  Bertha  Wayland  was  there  to 
hear  it;  and  because  she  was  there,  Caleb  did  his  best, 
and  so  did  Linda  and  Bell  and  Job,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  young  folks  in  the  choir.  Her  presence  was  an  inspi 
ration.  Moses  and  Mr.  Flipkin  did  not  care  to  attend 
meeting  to  hear  a  prosy  sermon,  but  found  more  pleasure 
in  trying  their  skill  with  their  rifles  at  a  "  turkey  shooting  " 
in  the  meadow.  The  people  in  the  meeting-house  could 
hear  the  crack  of  their  guns. 

After  the  service  there  were  hearty  congratulations 
among  friends;  then  a  hastening  home  to  dinner, —  to  turkeys 
and  chickens,  puddings,  pies,  nuts  and  apples,  and  mugs  of 
cider ;  to  jokes,  conundrums,  stories,  weighing  on  the  steel 
yards,  measuring  of  heights,  and  trotting  of  children  on  the 
knees. 

Evening  came.  Lights  were  gleaming  in  parlor,  sitting- 
room,  kitchen,  and  chambers,  and  the  full  moon  was  pour 
ing  a  flood  of  light  on  farm-house,  forest,  and  field,  as  if  to 
make  Daisy's  party  more  brilliant  than  any  that  had  ever 
been  given  in  Millbrook.  Sleighs  were  coming  from  the 
east  and  from  the  west,  from  the  north  and  the  south,  up 


164  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  valley,  and  down  the  hills.  The  young  men  were 
touching  up  their  horses,  that  the  young  ladies  might  see 
how  fast  they  could  travel,  and  to  let  them  know  that 
there  was  not  a  horse  in  town  that  could  go  by  them. 

Arriving  at  the  house,  the  ladies  went  up  stairs,  laid 
aside  their  cloaks  and  bonnets,  fixed  up  their  ribbons, 
smoothed  their  hair,  turned  this  way  and  that  way  before 
the  looking-glasses,  and  asked  each  other  if  they  were  all 
right  behind.  The  gentlemen  went  into  another  chamber, 
took  off  their  overcoats  and  caps,  and  piled  them  on  the 
bed,  pulled  down  their  vests,  and  pulled  up  their  collars. 
Then  they  went  down-stairs  into  the  sitting-room,  and 
toasted  their  feet  before  the  bright  wood-fire  blazing  on  the 
hearth  ;  looked  into  the  book-case,  at  the  photograph  alburn 
on  the  table,  at  the  pictures  on  the  walls  ;  walked  nervously 
round  the  room,  not  quite  knowing  what  to  do  with  them 
selves. 

Most  of  the  gentlemen  were  farmers,  who  could  hold  the 
plough,  or  swing  the  scythe,  or  use  the  hoe  and  shovel. 
Their  coats  were  not  of  the  finest  broadcloth,  nor  were 
their  garments  fitted  to  them  by  a  tailor,  but  were  pur 
chased  at  the  store. 

Moses,  however,  appeared  in  a  new  suit,  which  well  fitted 
him,  —  a  black  dress-coat,  vest  and  pantaloons.  He 
wore  kid  gloves  and  a  blue  silk  necktie,  and  carried  a 
watch  with  a  gold  chain.  His  hair  was  nicely  parted  and 
perfumed.  He  was  perfectly  at  ease,  and  stood  before 
the  fire  balancirg  himself  on  one  foot  while  warming  the 

o  o 

other.  His  countenance  was  fresh  and  fair.  He  had 
assiduously  cultivated  a  patch  of  white  furze  upon  his 
upper  lip,  though  every  other  portion  of  his  face  was  closely 
shaven. 

Mr.   Flipkin  wore  a  dress  suit   and   white  kid  gloves, 


Tfwnksgiving.  165 

with  Iiis  hair  parted  in  (he  middle,  and  his  eye-glass  dang 
ling  frcm  a  black  cord  around  his  neck. 

"  Good-evening,  gentlemen.  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you." 
It  was  Daisy,  who  came  to  invite  them  into  the  parlor. 

Linda  and  Miss  Wayland  were  talking  together,  when 
Caleb,  following  Moses  and  Mr.  Flipkin,  entered  the 
room. 

"  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  meet  you  again,  Mr.  Krinkle," 
said  Miss  Wayland,  courtesying  and  extending  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  happy  to  see  you  once  more  in 
Millbrook." 

"  Oh,  that  day  of  last  March,  Mr.  Krinkle!  It  was  so 
delightful !  I  have  wanted  a  thousand  times  to  see  you,  to 
thank  you  again  for  the  enjoyment  you  gave  me." 

"  I  think  that  the  obligation  is  the  other,  way,  and  that  I 
ought  to  thank  you  for  honoring  the  occasion  with  your 
presence,"  Gale!")  replied,  and  then  wondered  how  it  ever 
came  about  that  he  could  make  so  fine  a  speech. 

'•  I  am  glad  that  you  brought  Bell,"  said  Linda,  as  Miss 
Wayland  turned  to  speak  to  others. 

Moses  bowed  stiffly  to  Bell,  and  said  "  Good-evening." 
She  barely  recognized  the  salutation.  The  ladies,  for  the 
most  part,  occupied  one  side  of  the  room  and  the  gentle 
men  the  other.  They  were  all  well  acquainted,  were 
accustomed  to  see  each  other  every  Sunday,  and  at  the 
meeting  of  the  sewing-society,  and  on  other  occasions,  and 
had  laughed  and  chatted  together  at  singing-school,  but 
the  gentlemen  just  then  could  not  think  of  any  thing  to 
say.  They  were  entering  society,  and  did  not  know  how  to 
do  it.  The  atmosphere  was  new  and  strange.  Society 
would  demand  pretty  little  speeches,  brilliant  sentences, 
witticisms,  flatteries,  words  that  meant  nothing.  They 
would  not  perhaps  have  been  quite  so  bashful  if  Miss 
Bertha  Wayland,  from  Boston,  had  not  been  there. 


1 66  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  It  is  rather  difficult  for  us  to  put  on  our  otium  cum  dig- 
nitate,  Moses,  remarked,  with  an  inclination  of  his  head 
toward  the  group  of  diffident  ones,  as  if  he  himself  belonged 
to  a  separate  order  of  beings.  The  young  lady  with  whom 
he  was  talking  had  no  idea  as  to  what  the  words  might 
mean.  Job  pricked  up  his  ears,  however,  but  said  nothing. 
Through  boyhood  they  had  enjoyed  breezy  sailing,  but 
now  had  reached  the  doldrums.  They  were  becalmed, 
like  the  ships  in  that  weedy  sea  of  the  tropics.  Their 
hands  were  not  in  the  way  anywhere  else,  but  here  they 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them.  To  put  them  in  their 
pockets  would  not  be  genteel,  to  fold  them  they  were  not 
accustomed,  to  stand  with  them  behind  their  backs  all  of 
the  time  would  be  an  awkward  position,  to  clasp  them  in 
front  would  look  better  in  a  prayer-meeting  than  in  a 
Thanksgiving  party ;  so,  in  trying  to  appear  at  ease,  they 
assumed  a  variety  of  awkward  attitudes. 

In  by-gone  days  they  had  played  "  Stage-coach,"  "  Co 
penhagen,"  "  Blind  Man's  Buff  ;  "  now  they  were  not  quite 
certain  that  "  society"  would  permit  any  thing  of  the  kind : 
but  as  the  children  of  Israel  hankered  for  the  leeks,  gar 
lics,  onions,  melons  and  cucumbers  of  Egypt,  so  they  longed 
for  the  dear  old  times.  Not  a  few  of  them  had  already 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  rather  a  stupid  affair, 
when  Daisy  entered  with  a  cane,  asked  them  to  be  seated, 
and  then  began,  "  He  —  can  —  do  —  little  —  who  can't  do 
this,"  rapping  three  times  on  the  floor  and  passing  the 
cane  on  to  Caleb. 

"  He  can  do  little  who  can't  do  this,"  said  Caleb,  rap 
ping  three  times. 

"  Right,"  said  Daisy,  as  Caleb  passed  it  to  Miss  Way- 
land. 

"  He  can  do  little  who  can't  do  this,"  she  repeated,  rap- 


TJianks giving.  167 

ping  three  times,  but  without  the  least  idea  of  the  meaning 
of  either  the  words  or  the  raps  upon  the  floor.  She 
passed  the  stick  on  to  Job. 

"Wrong,"  said  Daisy. 

"  I  don't  see  but  that  I  did  it  just  as  you  did."  she 
replied,  wondering  where  the  mistake  might  be. 

"  He  can  do  little  who  can't  do  this,"  said  Job,  in  a  deep 
bass  voice,  with  slow  and  measured  accent. 

"  Of  course  Job  would  have  it  right;  he  never  does  any 
thing  wrong,"  Daisy  remarked.  The  compliment  was  so 
unexpected  and  so  sweetly  spoken  that  it  brought  the 
color  into  Job's  face.  He  passed  the  cane  to  Mary,  who 
did  it  right,  and  now  it  came  Mr.  Flipkin's  turn. 

"  He  can  do  little  who  can't  do  this."  He  rattled  the 
words  off  glibly,  rapped  on  the  floor  as  the  others  had 
done,  and  passed  the  cane  on  to  Linda. 

"Wrong,"  said  everybody  that  had  done  it  right,  and  all 
others  that  knew  how  to  do  it.  This  universal  decision 
astonished  Mr.  Flipkin,  who  thought  he  saw  that  the  dif 
ference  between  the  right  way  and  the  wrong  was  in  the 
number  of  raps. 

"Oh,  I  see!  I'll  do  it  next  time."  And  Mr.  Flipkin 
rubbed  his  hands  in  glee  as  he  saw  just  where  the  secret 
was  concealed. 

"  You  emphasize  '  little  : '  that  is  it,"  he  whispered  to 
Linda.  She  only  smiled,  but  did  not  enlighten  him.  Be 
fore  the  cane  had  gone  the  rounds,  Miss  Wayland  discov 
ered  the  mystery.  It  came  again  to  Mr.  Flipkin. 

"  He  can  do  little  who  can't  do  this." 

"  Wrong  !  wrong !  wrong  !  "  shouted  everybody. 

"Wrong?"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  blank  stare  and  an 
open  mouth,  that  gave  him  a  ludicrous  appearance.  "  I'll 
be  blamed  if  I  didn't  think  it  was  on  '  little.'  Oh,  I  see  ! 


1 68  Caleb  Krinkle. 

it  is  on  '  this.' "  And  he  went  over  the  words,  emphasiz 
ing  "this." 

"  Wrong  !  wrong !  wrong  !  "  they  shouted  once  more,  en 
joying  his  bewilderment. 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  I  didn't  rap  hard  enough." 

He  tried  it,  and  it  was  still  wrong;  tried  soft  raps,  meas 
ured  his  words,  but  with  every  trial  the  muddle  became 
more  incomprehensible,  till  Linda,  out  of:  sheer  compas 
sion,  showed  him  the  difference  between  the  right  way  and 
the  wrong  way  of  doing  it. 

Easy  the  transition  to  "magic  writing"  and  then  to 
"black  art,"  Bell  doing  the  writing,  drawing  cabalistic 
signr,  on  the  carpet,  and  making  punctuation  marks  in  a 
way  that  convulsed  them  with  laughter.  Then  they 
played  "Here  Comes  a  Ship."  Most  of  the  gentlemen 
and  quite  a  number  of  the  ladies  were  very  soon  at  their 
wits'  end  in  regard  to  the  cargo,  but  Job  and  Miss  Way- 
land  seemed  to  have  no  end  of  boxes,  bags,  bales,  bun 
dles,  babies,  or  something  else  beginning  with  B,  on  board 
the  ship  when  it  came  into  port.  They  went  on  so  long 
that  Caleb  wondered  if  they  had  been  studying  the  letter 
B  for  the  evening's  entertainment. 

Then  came  the  admission  of  new  members  to  the  "  So 
ciety  of  Great  Expectations,"  with  Bell  as  the  sibyl  to  per 
form  the  ceremonial  rites. 

All  but  the  members  of  the  Society  were  packed  off 
into  the  wide  hall  and  sitting-room.  One  by  one  they 
were  called  into  the  parlor  to  be  initiated.  The  candi 
dates  in  the  hall  could  hear  the  voice  of  the  sibyl  slowly 
and  solemnly  repeating  the  ritual ;  they  could  hear  the 
candidate  saying  "  I  promise,"  and  then  came  the  clapping 
of  hands  and  merry  peals  of  laughter.  They  wondered 
what  it  was  all  about.  Those  who  stood  by  the  door 


Thanksgiving.  169 

could  catch  a  glimpse  when  one  was  called  in.  Bell  was 
seated  upon  a  throne  arrayed  as  a  queen,  with  a  paper 
crown  on  her  head,  a  silver  fork  in  her  hand,  and  there 
was  a  mysterious  array  of  things  around  her:  a  cricket  on 
which  the  candidate  kneeled  ;  a  table  near  at  hand,  with 
something  upon  it  covered  by  a  napkin.  What  it  all 
meant  they  could  not  imagine. 

When  all  were  initiated,  when  all  had  laughed  till 
the  tears  rolled  clown  their  cheeks  and  their  sides  were 
aching,  Daisy's  father  and  mother  came  in  to  shake  hands 
with  them  and  to  invite  them  to  supper.  There  were  cold 
chicken  and  tongue,  slices  of  delicious  bread  made  by 
Daisy  herself,  who  had  taken  a  premium  at  the  county 
fair,  apple  pie,  mince  pie,  pumpkin  pie,  cup  custards,  gin 
gerbread,  sponge  cake,  Thanksgiving  cake,  and  black 
cake  frosted  and  ornamented,  cranberry  tarts,  coffee,  tea, 
and  glasses  of  sweet  cider. 

The  gentlemen  not  being  accustomed  to  hold  a  plate 
and  a  cup  of  coffee  while  standing,  or  to  wait  upon  the 
ladies  while  eating,  did  not  get  through  supper  without 
some  embarrassment.  Ben  unfortunately  spilled  his  coffee 
and  dropped  his  tart.  He  grew  red  in  the  face.  "  Eventus 
stultornm  magister,"  said  Moses. 

No  one  made  reply,  not  knowing  the  meaning  of  the 
high  sounding  words ;  though  Caleb  noticed  (hat  Job 
again  pricked  up  his  ears.  As  no  one  asked  Moses  to 
put  the  phrase  into  English,  its  effect  was  likely  to  be  lost, 
somewhat  to  his  disappointment. 

"  Would  you  like  to  know  the  meaning  of  it?  "  he  asked 
of  Linda. 

"  I  am  not  particular,"  Linda  replied,  with  perfect  self- 
possession,  which  brought  out  a  bright  flush  upon  Moses' 
forehead,  who  was  not  a  little  disturbed  by  the  quiet  re 
buke. 


i jo  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Ben  was  very  much  confused  over  what  had  happened, 
and  Miss  Waylancl,  taking  pity  on  him,  said, — 

"  Your  mishap  is  not  so  bad  as  one  that  I  once  saw, 
where  a  gentleman  spilled  a  custard  into  a  lady's  lap." 

"  He  ought  to  have  been  taken  into  custody,"  said  Job. 
It  was  spoken  soberly,  and  all  laughed  so  heartily  as  to 
quite  forget  what  had  happened  to  Mr.  Tottle. 

"  I  am  as  ignorant  as  a  child  about  things  in  the  country," 
said  Miss  Waylancl  to  Ben.  "I  don't  know  the  difference 
between  wheat,  rye,  oats  and  barley.  How  do  they  look 
when  growing  ? " 

"Wheat  does  not  grow  so  tall  as  rye.  Rye  and  barley 
always  have  beards.  Oats,  like  most  of  us  here,  are  with 
out  any  beard."  Ben  Tottle  could  be  very'bright  at  times, 
and  Miss  Wayland  laughed  at  his  allusion. 

"Wheat  sometimes  has  a  beard  and  sometimes  hasn't, 
but  barley  always  has  a  stiff  beard,"  he  added. 

"Of  course  you  cut  it  with  a  razor,"  said  Miss  Wayland, 
archly,  and  all  laughed  at  her  wit,  except  Mr.  Flipkin,  who 
could  see  nothing  to  laugh  at. 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Wayland,  they  don't  cut  it  with  a  razor. 
Allow  me  to  correct  you  :  they  use  a  —  a — what-d'ye-call- 
it,"  Mr.  Flipkin  said,  trying  to  think  of  a  sickle. 

"No;  we  clon't  use  a  what-d'ye-call-it,  but  a  cradle," 
said  Ben,  which  set  all  the  company  into  a  roar. 

"A  cradle?  How  can  you  use  a  cradle?  I  thought  cra 
dles  were  for  rocking  babies  to  sleep." 

Again  there  was  a  roar,  louder  than  before,  from  the  farm 
ers,  who  enjoyed  the  stupidity  of  the  young  gentleman  from 
New  York. 

"I  suppose  you  can  milk  and  do  all  sorts  of  things,"  Mr. 
Flipkin  said  to  Mary  Fielding. 

"Oh,  yes,  most  of  us  country  girls  know  how  to  milk." 


Thanksgiving.  171 

"And  you  have  names  for  the  cows,  I  suppose,  —  Lucy, 
Nancy,  Ann  Maria,  and  so  on." 

"Yes;  father  has  one  that  we  call  Mary  Jane,  another  we 
call  Little  Dolly.  They  are  beautiful  Jerseys." 

"Why,  I  had  no  idea  that  you  went  clear  down  to  New 
Jersey  after  cows." 

"  We  don't.     Ours  came  from  Vermont." 

"Then  I  should  say  that  they  were  not  New  Jersey  but 
Vermont  cows,"  said  Mr.  Flipkin,  which  also  caused  a  great 
deal  of  laughter. 

Mr.  Flipkin  wondered  if  he  had  said  any  thing  that  was 
not  exactly  right,  but  as  he  could  discover  nothing,  con 
cluded  that  as  it  was  Thanksgiving  night  everybody  was  bound 
to  have  a  jolly  time. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  talking  about  cows,"  he  continued,  "re 
minds  me  of  what  I  said  to  our  milkman  one  morning  in 
New  York.  You  know  they  bring  round  milk,  cream,  and 
buttermilk  in  big  cans.  I  told  the  fellow  that  his  cows  gave 
poor  buttermilk.  He  said  that  he  would  punch  my  head 
for  my  confounded  impertinence,  as  he  called  it,  whereupon 
I  threw  off  my  coat  and  told  him  to  come  on." 

Mr.  Flipkin  was  astonished  at  the  peal  of  laughter  that 
rang  through  the  room.  He  looked  from  one  to  another, 
stroking  the  furze  on  his  upper  lip,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  com 
prehend  the  situation  of  affairs. 

"  I  must  have  said  something  very  funny,  but  I'll  be 
blamed  if  I  can  tell  what  it  is,"  he  said  ;  but  no  one  enlightened 
him. 

Returning  to  the  parlor,  they  began  the  game  of  "  Copen 
hagen." 

Mr.  Flipkin  allowed  himself  to  be  brought  into  the  fortress 
quite  willingly,  but  the  ladies  were  fleet  enough  to  escape  be 
fore  he  could  take  the  customary  toll.     Moses  was  wary  in 


173  Caleb  Krinkle. 

his  endeavors  to  capture  Miss  Wayland,  who  kept  a  sharp 
eye  on  all  his  movements.  Caleb  found  himself  inside  the 
fortress,  and  Miss  Wayland,  not  being  able  to  keep  one  eye  on 
Moses  and  the  other  on  himself,  became  his  captive.  Should 
he  take  that  which  belonged  to  him,  — a  kiss?  He  hesitated. 
She  was  from  Boston.  She  was  an  heiress.  She  had  moved 
in  refined  circles.  Perhaps  they  never  indulged  in  kisses  on 
Beacon  street.  Perhaps  the  salutation  would  not  be  agreea 
ble  to  her.  Perhaps  she  would  resent  it  if  he  attempted  it. 
But  she  had  entered  into  the  game  knowing  the  penalty  if 
captured.  Supposing  he  did  not  claim  that  which  he  had  a 
right  to  claim,  might  she  not  think  him  wanting  in  manliness 
and  courage?  Moses,  Flipkin  and  everybody  else  woul  1 
not  think  quite  so  well  of  him  if  he  showed  the  white  feather. 
He  was  sure  that  Moses  would  give  a  great  deal  to  be  in  his 
shoes  at  that  instant.  He  looked  into  Miss  Wayland's  eyes 
and  scanned  the  smile  upon  her  face.  There  was  nothing 
there  to  frighten  him ;  there  was  no  shrinking  from  him,  and 
her  hand  rested  willingly  in  his.  How  soft !  how  delicate  ! 
The  game  had  ceased,  and  all  were  looking  to  see  what  he 
would  do.  He  touched  his  lips  to  her  fair  check  and  led 
her  gracefully  into  the  ring,  amid  the  clapping  of  hands  and 
murmurs  of  applause.  It  was  like  the  triumphal  entry  of  a 
prince  and  his  lady-love  to  the  capitol  of  a  kingdom.  Ah, 
that  kiss  !  Its  fragrance  was  like  wine  of  the  rarest  vintage, 
like  the  perfume  of  the  rose  and  lily,  —  inexpressibly  sweet. 
But  to  Moses  it  was  sour  wine  spiced  with  wormwood  ! 

When  "Copenhagen"  began  to  lose  its  charms,  they  had 
"Blind  Man's  Buff."  What  fun  in  escaping  the  blind  man  ! 
darting  into  corners,  crouching  beneath  the  table,  dodging 
under  his  arms,  or  stepping  lightly  behind  him  ! 

Then  they  had  apples'  and  nuts,  and  philopened  each 
other ;  counted  the  seeds  of  the  apples,  and  went  over  the 
charming  ditty, — 


TJianksgiving.  173 

"  One  I  love,  two  I  love,  three  I  love  I  say, 
Four  I  love  with  all  my  heart, 
Five  I  cast  away." 

The  games  went  on  till  the  hands  of  the  clock  swung  past 
midnight,  and  yet  they  were  not  weary. 

"  2'empus  fugit"  said  Moses,  forgetting  the  rebuke  which 
Linda  had  given  him. 

"  Inter  strepit  anscr  alores."  It  was  Job  who  gave  utter 
ance  to  the  words.  All  were  amazed,  Moses  most  of  all. 
They  did  not  know  that  he  had  been  sitting  up  till  mid 
night  studying  Latin  after  working  hard  through  the  days 
upon  his  father's  farm. 

"  Please  put  it  into  English  for  us,"  said  Linda,  who  saw 
an  unusual  light  in  Job's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  repeating  a  line  that  I  came  upon  in  Vir 
gil  this  morning  :  that  a  goose  gabbles  among  swans,  just  as 
I  am  doing." 

Miss  Wayland  gazed  with  admiration  upon  him,  as  if  en 
joying  the  sharp  thrust  he  had  given  to  Moses,  who  turned 
very  red  in  the  face,  fingered  his  watch  chain,  not  making 
any  reply. 

The  time  had  come  for  going  home,  and  the  young  gen 
tlemen  soon  came  round  to  the  door  with  their  teams.  Then 
there  was  a  merry  gingling  of  bells. 

"How  have  you  enjoyed  yourself?"  Caleb  inquired  of 
Bell,  when  they  were  seated  in  the  sleigh. 

"Pretty  well." 

"Isn't  Miss  Wayland  nice?"  Caleb  asked. 

"  Of  course  you  think  so,  seeing  that  you  were  the  only 
one  that  got  a  chance  to  kiss  her ;  but  I  was  glad  you  did  it, 
though,  for  it  made  Moses  as  mad  as  a  March  hare." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  Moses." 

"No,  1  don't;  I  hate  him,  and  I  let  him  know  to-night  that 
I  didn't  care  the  snap  of  my  finger  for  him." 


174  Caleb  Krinkle. 

There  was  a  jingling  of  bells  behind  them,  and  now 
abreast  of  them.  It  was  Moses  and  Miss  Wayland.  Moses 
chirruped  to  his  horse,  as  if  intending  to  pass  them. 

A  tightening  of  the  reins  and  a  cluck  of  the  tongue  was 
sufficient  to  put  new  life  into  the  fleet-footed  animal  that 
Caleb  had  in  hand.  The  street  was  wide,  the  path  smooth 
and  well  trodden.  The  full  moon  was  high  in  the  heavens, 
flooding  hill  and  valley,  so  that  Caleb  could  see  every  move 
ment  made  by  Moses. 

Side  by  side  they  went,  the  bells  merrily  jingling,  the 
horses  catching  the  spirit  of  their  drivers. 

"  Don't  let  him  go  by,"  said  Bell. 

"  He  can't  do  it,"  Caleb  replied,  knowing  very  well 
what  each  horse  could  do.  He  was  holding  his  own  at  a 
steady  pace.  Moses  struck  his  with  the  whip,  and  the 
horse,  breaking  into  a  gallop,  leaped  ahead. 

•'Oh,  don't  let  him  !  don't  !  "  said  Bell,  reaching  forward 
to  take  the  whip  from  its  socket  to  lash  Caleb's  horse  into 
a  run.  Caleb  restrained  her,  gave  a  low  hiss,  and  his 
steed,  without  losing  its  gait,  closed  the  gap.  On  they 
flew,  down  a  gentle  descent,  and  up  the  hill  beyond,  side 
by  side. 

"  Hi-yah  !  "  shouted  Moses,  and  again  his  horse  leaped 
ahead. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  him  beat !  don't !  Run  into  him  !  Cap 
size  him!  Do  anything!"  said  Bell,  ready  to  cry  with 
vexation. 

Caleb  saw  that  Moses  intended  to  crowd  him  into  the 
ditch,  and  he  didn't  intend  to  go  there.  He  had  not  used 
his  whip,  but  now  he  touched  the  flank  of  the  animal,  and 
once  more  they  were  abreast,  and  so  near  together  that 
Bell  could  have  laid  her  hand  on  Moses'  shoulder. 

"  I  guess  we  will  say  good-night  to  them,"  said  Caleb 


Thanksgiving.  175 

in  a  low  voice  to  Bell,  and  he  gave  a  louder  hiss  than  be 
fore.  His  horse  knew  what  it  meant,  and  shot  away  as  if 
all  that  he  had  been  doing  was  only  his  ordinary  speed. 
He  not  only  took  the  lead,  but  the  centre  of  the  road. 

Bell  turned  round  and  laughed  in  Moses'  face.  She 
saw  him  standing  up  in  the  sleigh,  whipping  his  horse. 
The  animal  sprang  from  the  road  and  ran  upon  a  bank. 
There  was  a  crash,  and  Moses  and  Miss  Wayland  and  the 
buffalo  robes  were  in  the  snow.  The  horse  with  the  sleigh 
dashed  past  them.  Caleb  reined  in  his  own  horse,  turned 
about,  and  rode  back. 

"  Are  you  hurt?  "  was  the  anxious  question. 

"Oh,  no  ;  only  a  little  frightened,"  said  Miss  Wayland. 

"We  will  take  you  home  to  Mr.  Fielding's,"  said  Caleb 
jumping  out,  handing  her  in,  and  picking  up  the  robes 
and  blankets.  Moses  declined  to  ride,  as  it  was  but  a 
few  steps  from  where  the  accident  occurred  to  his  home. 
The  runaway  had  turned  into  Mr.  Meek's  door-yard. 

"Good-by,"  said  Bell  triumphantly  to  Moses,  as  they 
started  away. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Meek.  I  am  very  sorry  for  the 
accident,  but  am  glad  we  were  neither  of  us  injured,  and 
hope  you  will  find  your  horse  and  sleigh  all  right,"  said 
Miss  Wayland. 

Moses  made  no  reply,  but  bowed  stiffly  as  they  rode 
away.  He  went  to  the  shed  where  the  animal  was  stand 
ing,  and  kicked  him  vigorously.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
jump  into  the  sleigh,  overtake  Caleb,  and  carry  Miss  Way- 
land  to  Mr.  Fielding's,  where  she  was  stopping ;  but  so 
much  time  had  passed,  and  they  were  so  far  away,  that  he 
concluded  it  was  not  best  to  attempt  it.  Besides,  perhaps 
Miss  Wayland  would  not  care  to  trust  herself  with  him 
after  what  had  happened.  He  was  chagrined.  He  had 


176  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

not  enjoyed  the  party :  things  had  gone  against  him.  Bell 
had  snubbed  him  ;  the  young  fanners  had  turned  up  their 
noses  at  his  swallow-tailed  coat  and  kid  gloves  ;  Linda  had 
rebuked  him  ;  Job  had  taken  the  starch  out  of  him  for 
quoting  Latin  ;  Caleb  had  won  the  only  kiss  from  Miss 
Wayland,  had  beaten  him  in  the  race,  and  was  now  going 
home  with  her.  The  mortification  was  bitter.  He  seized 
the  whip,  applied  it  furiously  to  the  horse,  giving  vent  to 
his  wrath  by  swearing  all  the  oaths  he  could  think  of. 
The  animal  —  nobler  than  the  master  —  cringed  till  cring 
ing  brought  no  relief ;  then  letting  his  heels  fly,  kicked  the 
sleigh  into  kindling  wood,  seized  Moses  by  the  arm  with 
his  teeth,  and  ground  the  flesh  to  a  jelly.  Moses  dropped 
the  whip,  sat  down,  and  roared  with  pain,  till  John,  the 
man-of-all-work,  hearing  him,  hopped  out  of  bed,  came 
and  helped  him  into  the  house,  bandaged  his  arm,  wet  it 
with  camphor,  and  helped  him  up  stairs  and  into  bed,  leaving 
him  to  groan  while  he  cared  for  the  horse. 

"I  am  sorry  you  tipped  over,  on  your  account,  but  I  ain't 
a  bit  sorry  on  Moses'  account,"  said  Bell  to  Miss  Wayland. 

"I  am  sorry  it  happened,  for  it  must  be  a  mortification  to 
Mr.  Meek,"  Miss  Wayland  replied. 

"He  ought  to  be  mortified,  for  talking  Latin  to  us.  I  was 
glad  when  Job  took  him  down,"  said  Bell. 

"  How  beautifully  the  moonlight  falls  on  the  hills  and  val 
ley,  and  how  white  the  snow,"  said  Miss  Wayland,  changing 
the  subject. 

"Yes,  the  crust  makes  everything  look  like  wedding-cake," 
Bell  replied,  with  no  sign  of  vexation  in  her  voice  and  the 
old  smile  on  her  face.  She  delighted  to  turn  sentiment  into 
jest.  But  they  were  at  her  house. 

"I  am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  carrying  me,  Caleb/' 
said  Bell,  and  then  whispered  in  his  ear, — 


Thanksgiving.  177 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come  it  over  Moses  so  nicely." 

Caleb  could  but  reflecr  upon  me  situation  of  affairs  as 
he  drove  on.  There  he  was,  going  home  with  Moses'  lady. 
How  strangely  things  had  come  round  ! 

"  What  a  beautiful  evening  !  "  Miss  Wayland  exclaimed, 
breaking  the  silence. 

"Very,"  he  replied. 

"  Please  don't  hurry,  Mr.  Krinkle.  I  want  to  enjoy  it," 
and  the  horse,  as  if  understanding  what  she  had  said,  dropped 
into  a  walk. 

"  O  Mr.  Krinkle,  that  day  of  last  spring  in  the  sugar 
orchard  and  when  we  flew  down  the  hill  on  the  sled  like  the 
wind,  and  this  night,  I  shall  ever  recall  with  the  greatest 
pleasure.  I  have  always  lived  in  Boston,  and  we  know 
nothing  of  such  enjoyment  there.  'Propriety,'  'What  will 
folks  say?'  'It  isn't  genteel,'  —  those  are  the  rules  that  gov 
ern  us  in  the  city,  but  here  you  go  in  for  a  good  time." 

"Yes;  I  think  we  do  have  pretty  good  tinus,  even  if  it  is 
an  out-of-the-way  place." 

"I  shall  have  to  thank  you  for  this  evening's  pleasure, 
Mr.  Krinkle ;  if  you  had  not  invited  Mr.  Meek  and  his 
friends  to  come  over  to  the  sugar  party,  1  should  not  have 
been  there,  of  course,  nor  should  I  have  had  this  moonlight 
ride.  I  am  just  about  as  happy  as  I  can  be."  She  broke  out 
into  a  clear  song,  and  sang  a  strain  that  came  back  to  them 
from  the  other  side  of  the  valley. 

"  There  is  a  rude  girl  over  on  the  hill  mocking  me,"  she 
said. 

"  Let  us  rather  think  it  is  an  angel  taking  up  the  song," 
Caleb  replied. 

"  Oh,  no.  Please  do  not  flatter.  An  angel  never  would 
Ksien  tc  any  song  of  mine.  I  am  not  good  enough.  They 
would  listen  to  Linda,  she  is  so  good.  I  loved  her  the 

12 


178  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

moment  I  made  her  acquaintance  last  spring,  and  now  that  I 
Have  seen  more  of  her  I  love  her  better  than  ever." 

"  I  think  a  great  deal  of  Linda.  You  know  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  her  I  shouldn't  be  riding  with  you  here  to-night." 

"  That  is  so.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  think  a  great  deal 
of  her,"  said  Miss  Way  land  thoughtfully. 

They  were  approaching  Mr.  Fielding's  house. 

"  Can  we  not  ride  awhile?  I  don't  feel  like  going  in,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  if  you  would  like  we  will  take  a  turn  down  the 
road." 

Instead  of  driving  on  to  the  house,  Caleb  turned  into  a 
road  leading  down  the  valley.  They  rode  slowly  beneath  the 
over-arching  elms,  —  bare  now,  but  beautiful  still,  —  with 
the  meadows  on  either  side  white  with  the  gleaming  snow. 
Who  should  they  presently  meet  but  Job  and  Mary,  coming 
home  the  other  way  ! 

"  You  have  come  a  roundabout  way,"  said  Caleb. 

"  It  is  the  best  way  on  such  a  night  as  this.  But  how 
happens  it  that  you  two  are  out  here?"  Job  asked.  He 
laughed  heartily  when  informed  of  what  had  happened. 

Caleb  turned  about  and  followed  Job  to  Mary's  home. 

"  I  thank  you  very,  very  much,  Mr.  Krinkle,  for  all  the 
kindness  you  have  shown  me.  Good-night,"  said  Miss  Way- 
land.  The  moonlight  wa  falling  on  her  face,  and  the  win 
try  air  had  brought  a  bright  glow  upon  her  cheeks.  Caleb 
thought  her  transcendently  beautiful.  He  rode  home  in  a 
thoughtful  mood,  quite  well  satisfied  with  the  part  he  had 
played  during  the  evening.  His  sleigh-bells  were  tinkling  in 
the  air,  but  more  musical  than  the  bells  were  those  parting 
words,  —  "I  thank  you  very,  very  much." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LINDA'S  GIFT,  AND  HOW  IT  CAME. 

THERE  was  no  elixir  in  Dr.  Mayweed's  trunk  that  could 
give  her  strength ;  and  the  thin  pale  hand  was  grow 
ing  thinner  from  week  to  week.  Mrs.  Krinkle  knew  that  it 
was  to  be  her  last  winter  on  earth.  But  with  the  going  out 
of  physical  energy  there  came  a  quickening  of  the  intellect 
and  exaltation  of  the  soul. 

Many  the  talks  between  Caleb  and  his  mother.  » 
"  My  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  I  have  not  much  to  say  to  you 
as  to  how.  you  shall  live  or  what  you  shall  do,  when  I  am 
gone  ;  you  can  be  a  blessing  to  the  world  or  a  curse.  You 
can  win  honor,  which  is  better  than  fame,  by  standing  always 
for  what  is  good  .and  right  and  true.  You  may  gather  riches, 
but  the  fire  will  burn  them,  thieves  will  steal  them,  they  will 
slip  away  when  you  least  expect  it,  but  the  reward  that  will 
come  to  you  in  doing  good  \.ill  abide  forever.  Your  con 
science  and  an  unfaltering  trust  in  God  will  be  an  unfailing 
guide.  I  do  not  doubt  that  you  will  try  to  do  what  is 
'right." 

The  thin  pale  hand  rested  on  his  brow,  smoothed  his  hair, 
and  wiped  away  his  tears.  In  after  years  as  he  remembered 
the  sweetness  and  tenderness  of  the  act,  he  thought  that  so 
in  the  future  life  God's  own  hand,  would  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  weeping  eyes.  179 


i8o  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Although  so  near  the  heavenly  world  herself,  Mrs.  Krinkle 
did  not  forget  that  Caleb  was  on  earth,  and  that  the  great 
battle  of  life  was  before  him.  She  did  not  forget  that  it  was 
a  sore  disappointment  and  trial  to  him  to  be  kept  at  homo 
while  so  many  of  his  mates  were  at  the  academy.  To  make 
the  time  pleasant  and  profitable  through  the  long  winter  even 
ings,  she  led  him  through  a  course  of  English  literature.  He 
did  not  then  understand  how  he  was  lifted  by  it  into  a  higher 
plane  of  life  ;  it  was  in  after  years  that  the  comprehension  of 
the  truth  came  to  him,  that  what  he  had  acquired  was  im 
measurably  superior  to  the  knowledge  he  would  have  gained 
at  the  academy. 

The  snow  was  disappearing  from  the  hills,  the  red  buds  of 
the  maples  were  swelling  in  the  sun,  the  violets  were  appear 
ing  in  the  meado  vs,  when  Mrs.  Krinkle  passed  away.  And 
the  husband,  while  giving  as  the  men  of  Galilee  gazed  up 
into  heaven  whither  she  had  gone,  was  not  unmindful  of  the 
things  of  earth,  and  that  his  work  was  still  here.  Though 
his  pillo-.v  was  wet  with  many  tears  at  night,  there  was  the 
same  stern  resolve  during  the  day  that  had  characterized 
him  through  life,  that  had  won  the  respect  and  honor  of  his 
fellowmen. 

Caleb  felt  that  there  was  one  who  could  truly  sympathize 
with  him  in  his  sorrow,  —  Linda.  The  sun  was  going  down 
behind  the  western  hills  as  he  went  up  to  the  cottage.  She 
was  in  the  garden  looking  after  the  plants,  that  had  been 
buried  beneath  the  winter  snows  and  were  now  sending  up 
their  early  shoots.  What  a  vision  it  was !  Little  Maid 
standing  there,  with  the  rays  of  the  departing  sun  streaming 
around  her  !  He  thought  of  her  as  the  old  painters  thought 
of  the  Madonna, — the  centre  of  light  and  glory. 

Tender  her  sympathy  and  wise  her  words,  and  when  he 
-went  home,  it  was  with  a  brave  heart  and  a  brighter 


Linda's  Gift,  and  How  it  Cain;.  iSi 

hope.     As  the  angel  strengthened  Elijah,  so  I/'nda  comforted 
him. 

There  came  a  warm  and  sunny  day,  and  the  stag?  was  go 
ing  north  toward  Millbrook.  Peter  Smart  was  driving,  and 
Captain  Krinkle  was  sitting  by  his  side,  on  I.i:;  way  home 
from  Boston,  where  lie  had  been  to  collect  old  debts,  and 
nuke  sales  of  the  lumber  that  would  soon  be  on  its  way  to 
market. 

"1  have  been  highly  prospered  this  trip.  I  have  collected 
some  old  bills  that  I  had  given  up  as  of  no  account,"  said 
the  Captain  to  Peter. 

"Good  for  you,  Cap'n,"  Peter  responded;  "for  if  there  is 
anybody  in  this  wide  world  that  I  want  to  see  get  on,  after 
Peter  Smart,  it  is  yourself." 

They  were  entering  the  village  and  the  bell  was  welcoming 
them  to  dinner.  Peter  cracked  his  whip  and  the  horse;, 
whirled  them  up  to  the  hotel. 

Captain  Krinkle  jumped  down  from  the  coach,  and  stepped 
into  Mr.  Meek's  store,  and  passed  into  the  counting-room. 

"What's  the  news?"  Mr.  Meek  asked,  shaking  hands  with 
him. 

"Nothing  in  particular,  —  only  things  are  lively,  business 
wide  awake;  bargained  all  my  lumber,  collected  a  lot  of  old 
bills,  got  the  cash.  I  did  your  errands, — got  the  papers 
somewhere.  Here  they  are,"  said  the  Captain,  handing  him 
a  package.  "I  am  ready  to  square  up,"  he  added. 

"  I  haven't  it  here ;  it  is  at  the  house,"  Mr.  Meek  replied. 

"  Never  mind  ;  just  give  me  a  receipt  or  a  memorandum. 
We'il  fix  it  in  the  morning." 

Mr.  Meek  wrote  something  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  handed 
it  to  the  Captain,  who  put  it  into  his  coat  pocket.  Mr. 
Meek  looked  at  the  parcel  a  moment  and  then  pat  it  into 
the  safe. 


182  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  It  is  a  very  warm  day  for  the  season  of  the  year,"  said  Mr. 
Meek,  as  the  Captain  was  going  out. 

"Very,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  there  were  snow 
enough  still  left  in  the  woods  on  the  hills  and  mountains  to 
raise  the  river.  If  it  does  rise,  I  shall  take  advantage  of  it 
to  set  my  logs  adrift,"  the  Captain  replied. 

The  afternoon  was  as  warm  as  the  forenoon  had  been. 
The  farmers  had  commenced  their  spring  work,  and  the 
horses,  tugging  at  the  plough  in  the  field,  panted  in  the  heat, 
while  the  oxen  paced  slowly  in  the  furrows,  with  their  tongues 
hanging  out  of  their  mouths. 

The  snow  that  had  been  lying  unseen  in  the  forests  dis-- 
appeared  almost  in  an  hour  before  the  heat  of  the  sun.  The 
rivulets  became  brooks,  brooks  rivers,  and  the  great  river 
itself  a  mighty  torrent.  When  the  people  went  to  bed  at 
night  they  said  the  water  would  be  up  on  the  interval  in  the 
morning.  The  morning  came,  and  all  Millbrook  was  astir. 
The  water  was  not  only  upon  the  interval,  but  over  the  low 
lands.  Drift-wood,  logs,  brush,  fences,  boards,  rails,  hay 
stacks,  fragments  of  bridges,  and  mills  were  afloat.  The' 
torrent  was  wild  and  angry.  The  swirling  waters  swept  on 
ward  like  a  race-horse  in  his  strength  and  speed. 

Some  of  Captain  Krinkle's  lumber  had  already  broken  loose, 
and  was  drifting  away.  The  logs  that  lay  upon  the  bank 
above  all  former  floods  were  afloat.  Men  were  tying  them 
together  with  ropes,  and  fastening  them  to  the  trees.  There 
was  running  to  and  fro  and  shouting  among  the  workmen, 
for  the  waters  were  rising  very  fast,  and  whatever  was  to  be 
done  must  be  done  quickly. 

Caleb  was  there  to  do  what  he  could.  He  was  out  upon 
the  rafts,  stepping  from  log  to  log,  fastening  a  rope  here  and 
another  there.  The  neighbors  came  to  help.  The  old  men 
stood  upon  the  banks  to  see  a  mightier  torrent  than  they  had 


Linda's  Gift,  and  How  it  Came.  183 

ever  seen  be-fore*  The  women  came,  and  the  children  from 
school,  and  the  teacher,  too,  for  what  child  could  study  with 
such  a  commotion  in  the  streets  and  such  a  wild,  terrific 
scene  so  near  at  hand  !  The  minister  left  his  Sunday's  ser 
mon  ;  Mr.  Fair  laid  down  his  hammer ;  Mr.  Meek  left  his 
ledger ;  Doctor  Mayweed  for  the  moment  forgot  his  patients.* 
The  bridge  was  in  danger,  for  the  logs  had  lodged  against  the 
piers ;  and  they  were  increasing  in  number  and  piling  higher 
every  moment.  The  people  were  afraid  to  cross  it,  for  it  was 
already  trembling. 

Captain  Krinkle's  property  was  vanishing  before  his  eyes. 
There  was  a  great  pile  of  logs  just  above  the  bridge,  another 
around  the  bend  still  farther  up  the  river,  and  the  rise  had 
been  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  very  little  could  be  done 
to  save  the  lumber.  The  Captain  had  purchased  all  the 
ropes  and  cords  in  Mr.  Meek's  store,  and  the  neighbors  had 
brought  all  they  could  lay  their  hands  upon,  but  the  ropes 
were  small  and  the  current  mighty,  and  the  cords  were  no 
more  than  pack  threads  against  it.  Captain  Krinkle  was  giv 
ing  his  directions.  If  others  were  excited,  he  was  calm  and 
collected.  There  was  a  sudden  outcry  :  — 

"A  house  !  a  house  afloat !  "  The  cry  ran  from  lip  to  Hp. 
"  A  house  !  a  house  !  "  There  it  was,  coming  round  the  bend, 
a  small  house,  half  submerged ;  its  windows  broken,  its  chim 
ney  crumbled.  All  eyes  were  turned  towards  it.  And  now  a 
child's  head  appeared  at  the  gable-window  and  two  little  arms 
were  flung  out  into  the  air. 

"  A  child  !  a  child  !  "  The  cry  ran  out  from  a  hundred 
voices. 

"Where's  the  boat?  the  boat?  the  boat?" 

Men,  women  and  children  shouted  it.  There  it  was,  high 
and  dry  upon  the  bank,  where  it  had  been  lying  through  the 
ivinter,  with  gaping  seams  upon  its  sides,  —  a  sieve  and  noth- 
;ng  more. 


:'>4  CaL'b  Kr inkle. 

'•'Oh,  dear!  dear !  dear!  Can't  something  be  clone? 
Isn't  there  so.ne  way  of  saving  it?  Oh,  cb:ir  !  dear  !  " 

Women  wrung  their  hands  and  cried.  Men  stood  speech 
less,  for  they  kiuw  that  they  were  powerless.  They  shook 
their  heads.  No  swimmer  could  keep  afloat  in  the  ice-cold 
water  amid  such  a  rush  and  roar  and  sweep  and  r/.virl ! 

Round  the  bend  it  came.  The  strong  man,  the  man  whom 
everybody  looked  up  to  in  town  meeting,  in  society,  in  the 
legislature,  the  peacemaker,  the  one  always  to  be  trusted,  the 
man  whose  property  was  vanishing  away  as  the  snow  had 
gone  from  the  hills,  who  had  been  stricken  sorely  by  his  late 
affliction,  stood  with  form  erect,  and  cool,  calculating  eye,  sur 
veying  the  scene.  He  forgot  about  his  property.  He  paid 
no  heod  to  Mrs.  Gabberly,  who  was  wringing  her  hands  and 
crying,  "  Oh,  dear  !  dear  !  "  A  rope  was  lying  at  his  feet ; 
quickly  he  picked  it  up. 

"  Come  with  me,  Jonathan ;  you  too,  Mr.  Fair ;  —  no  one 
else." 

They  were  orders  which  everybody  understood,  decisive 
and  inspiriting.  Jonathan  and  Mr.  Fair  followed  him  as  chil 
dren  follow  a  father.  All  others  stayed  where  they  were. 
They  ran  out  upon  the  bridge,  which  trembled  beneath  them. 

The  house  was  almost  there,  and  behind  it  was  a  great  raft 
of  logs  that  had  broken  away  above.  They  were  tumbling 
one  against  another.  Fearful  the  scene. 

Captain  Krinkle  stripped  off  his  coat  and  threw  it  upon 
the  bridge,  gave  one  end  of  the  rope  to  Jonathan  and  Mr. 
Fair,  took  the  other  in  his  hand,  and  was  over  the  railing 
in  a  moment.  Those  who  stood  upon  the  shore  saw  him 
sliding  clown  the  pier  and  running  out  upon  the  logs  piled 
against  it.  Nearer  came  the  house,  and  the  people  now 
saw  what  Captain  Krinkle  had  seen  from  the  first,  —  that  it 
would  strike  against  the  great  heap  of  logs  upon  which  he 


Linda  s  Gift,  and  How  it  Came.  185 

was  standing.  They  could  see  the  child  at  the  window 
and  its  arms  iking  out  in'.o  the  air. 

Captain  Krinkle  was  calculating  \vhcre  it  would  strike, 
and  ho'vV  it  would  surge  off  upon  one  side,  or  be  sucked 
xmdcr  and  crushed  like  an  egg  shell  beneath  the  timber. 
He  ran  out  upon  a  log  that  sank  beneath  his  weight, 
stepped  upon  another,  a  third,  a  fourth,  as  lightly  as  a 
child.  A  leap,  and  lie  is  on  the  roof  cf  the  building, 
reaching  his  arms  clown  to  the  window.  He  has  the  child 

O 

in  his  hands.  The  house  is  toppling,  whirling  round,  go 
ing  under.  Another  leap  over  the  logs,  which  sink  be 
neath  him,  and  he  is  at  the  pier  tying  the  rope  around 
the  child. 

The  people  on  the  shore  see  the  child  rise  in  the  air. 

"  Quick!"  It  is  the  one  word  that  comes  to  their  cars 
from  the  brave  man  below  them. 

The  child  is  over  the  railing  in  the  arms  of  the  black 
smith.  There  comes  a  mighty  crash.  The  great  raft  that 
has  been  following  the  house  has  struck. 

"  Run  fjr  your  lives  ! '' 

They  hear  the  shout  from  the  Captain.  They  see  him 
motion  the  blacksmith  and  Jonathan  toward  the  shore  ; 
sec  them  running;  see  them  leap  upon  the  bank  just  as 
the  great  stringers  part  like  pipe  stems.  The  pier  rises 
from  its  foundation.  The  bridge  goes  over  upon  its  side 
into  the  foaming  waters.  The  timbers  roll  and  toss  and  fly 
into  the  air  like  straws  blown  by  the  wind.  They  see  the 
bravo  man,  cool  and  collected  as  ever,  standing  bare 
headed  on  a  log.  He  gives  one  look  toward  the  shore, 
waves  his  hand  to  them,  as  they  have  seen  him  wave 
a  farewell  when  starting  on  a  journey.  And  no-.v  he  gazes 
up  into  heaven.  The  log  flies  from  beneath  his  feet 
and  he  sinks  into  the  water.  A  moment  they  see  him, 


i86  Caleb  Krinklc. 

catch  a  g.mipse  of  a  hand  stretched  up  toward  the  sun 
shine,  and  then  the  great  mass  of  whirling  timber  rolls 
over  the  spot  ! 

"  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant." 

His  memorial  stone  will  need  nothing  more. 

A  cry  of  horror  goes  up  from  the  shore.  Hearts. 
,*tand  still,  cheeks  blanch,  women  weep,  and  men  gaze 
awe-stricken  into  each  other's  faces.  Their  best  friend 
gone. 

"  He  hadn't  an  enemy  in  the  world."  That  is  their  eulogy 
when  they  find  voice  to  speak. 

But  the  child  !     Whose  is  it  ?     Whose  ?     No  one  knew. 

The  little  girl  thus  rescued  was  too  much  frightened  to 
speak  its  name  in  the  crowd  of  strange  faces.  It  evidently 
was  about  three  years  of  age,  a  timid,  shrinking  thing,  with 
golden  hair  and  hazel  eyes. 

"What  is  your  name,  dear?  Tell  us  your  name?  Where 
did  you  live?  Who  was  your  father?  Have  you  any 
mother?" 

A  dozen  kind-hearted  women  asked  the  questions,  but  the 
child  was  speechless.  Little  Maid  stooped  and  kissed  her 
and  smoothed  the  golden  locks.  It  must  have  been  the  touch 
of  her  hand,  or  her  smile,  or  the  tender  light  from  her  loving 
eyes,  or  some  intercommunion  of  spirit  between  them  that  we 
cannot  comprehend,  that  won  the  trust  and  confidence  of  the 
child,  who  reached  up  her  arms  and  clasped  them  around 
Little  Maid's  neck  and  nestled  her  face  against  her  bosom. 

Not  for  a  moment  would  the  child  be  separated  from  its 
new-found  friend.  Mothers  tried  to  coax  it  to  their  arms, 
called  it  pet  names,  but  in  vain.  Fruitless  alike  were  all  ef 
forts  to  find  out  its  name,  or  aught  of  its  history,  till  Dan 
joined  the  group. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  It  is  little  Winifred  !  "  said  Dan,  as  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  golden  curls. 


Linda's  Gift,  and  How  it  Came.  187 

"  Winifred  !  "  a  dozen  exclaimed. 

"  Her  mother  belongs  in  New  York,  and  always  comes 
early  in  the  spring  to  spend  the  summer  in  a  little  cottage 
ten  miles  up  stream." 

"  You  know  where  it  is,  Mr.  Meek.  I've  seen  you  up  that 
way,"  said  Dan,  addressing  Mr.  Meek,  who  came  up  at  the 
moment.  He  had  been  gazing  at  the  spot  where  Captain 
Krinkle  disappeared,  and  had  not  seen  the  child. 

"  Where  what  is  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  little  cottage  where  the  New  York  lady  spends  the 
summer,  with  an  old  negro  and  his  wife  to  take  care  of  her. 
Here  is  her  little  daughter  Winifred,"  said  Dan. 

"  Winifred  !  "  Mr.  Meek  said  it  as  if  not  quite  compre 
hending,  or  as  if  the  terrible  disaster  had  dazed  him  for  the 
moment.  The  people  noticed  that  his  cheeks  were  pale 
and  that  his  lips  quivered. 

"  Probably  her  mother  is  drowned  and  the  old  negro  and 
his  wife.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  dam  just  above  the 
house  had  broken  away  in  the  night  and  swept  every  thing- 
before  it,"  said  Dan. 

Mr.  Meek  said  nothing,  but  walked  away,  and  stood  with  his 
hands  clasped  upon  his  heart  as  he  gazed  upon  the  scene  of 
the  vicarious  sacrifice. 

Dan  was  right.  The  sudden  rising  of  the  flood  had  car 
ried  away  the  dam  in  the  early  morning,  and  the  torrent 
came,  sweeping  fences,  trees,  house  and  barn  before  it.  The 
old  negro,  his  wife,  and  their  mistress,  in  the  darkness,  the 
turmoil,  the  bewilderment,  in  the  rush  and  roar,  had  perished,, 
while  Winifred,  asleep  amid  it  all,  was  borne  away,  thus  to 
be  rescued. 

The  sun  was  shining,  but  to  Caleb  it  was  midnight.  He 
went  away  by  himself,  sat  down  upon  the  ground,  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  bowed  his  head  between  his 
knees. 


i83  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

His  friends,  standing  at  a  distance,  themselves  wept  when 
they  beheld  his  grief,  and  thought  oF  the  bereavement  that 
had  come  to  them  all.  The  blacksmith  alone  went  and  sat 
down  by  his  side. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  laying  his  brawny  hand  on 
Caleb's  shoulder,  "  the  Lord  needed  him.  He  was  great  in 
life  and  great  in  death  ;  and  believe  me,  my  son,  the  service 
your  father  can  render  there  will  be  immeasurably  greater 
than  it  could  have  been  here." 

With  such  words  did  he  seek  to  comfort  the  stricken 
lieart. 

While  Mr.  Fair  was  thus  engaged  the  neighbors  were  taking 
counsel  together  in  regard  to  the  future  of  the  little  waif 
which  was  nestling  in  Linda's  arms. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  the  child?  I  don't  see  but  that 
she'll  have  to  go  to  the  poor-house,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

"I  shall  take  care  of  her,"  replied  Linda,  with  decision. 

"That  is  right,"  said  her  father;  "she  shall  be  our  child 
till  her  friends  come  for  her,  and  if  they  never  come  she 
shall  be  ours  always." 

So  Little  Maid,  with  the  gift  of  God  in  her  arms,  went 
home  rejoicing,  not  that  such  a  great  sorrow  had  come  upon 
them  all,  but  that  witli  the  sorrow  there  had  come  a  joy. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOW  THINGS   WERE   TURNED    TOPSY-TURVY. 

WHAT  a  melting  away  it  was  !  A  great  estate  had 
disappeared  in  a  night,  the  farm,  the  house,  the 
adjoining  buildings,  the  meadows,  the  uplands,  outlying  pas 
tures,  the  sugar  orchard,  the  blooded  stock,  —  everything 
that  Captain  Krinkle  had  possessed.  There  had  been  a  mag 
nificent  estate ;  now  there  was  nolhing  but  debt :  debt  for 
the  millions  of  feet  of  lumber  that  had  been  swept  away,  debt 
here,  there,  everywhere,  —  so  much  debt  that  everybody  in. 
Milibrook  was  amazed. 

There  was  a  debt  of  ten  thousand  dollars  due  Mr.  Meek, 
secured  by  a  mortgage  on  the  farm.  The  appraisers  looked 
at  the  property,  ran  their  eyes  over  the  columns  of  figures,  and 
shook  their  heads.  The  debts  would  swallow  up  the  assets. 

Sad  to  think  that  all  the  labor  of  the  winter,  all  the  labor 
of  by-gone  years,  all  the  reasonable  expectations  of  profit  on 
the  lumber  that  had  been  cut,  should  so  suddenly  disappear ; 
but  saddest  of  all,  to  know  that  ten  thousand  dollars,  enough 
to  pay  off  the  mortgage,  was  in  Captain  Krinkie's  pocket  when 
he  went  down  beneath  the  surging  flood. 

He  had  just  returned  from  Boston,  and  must  have  had 
the  money  in  his  pocket,  for  the  cashier  of  the  Tenth  National 
Bank  had  cashed  his  checks  the  day  before  he  left  the  city. 

189 


i go  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Now  it  had  gone,  and  Caleb  Krinkle  was  not  only  left  alone 
in  the  world,  but  penniless. 

People  came  from  all  the  surrounding  towns  to  attend  the 
auction,  for  no  such  estate  as  Captain  Krinkle 's  had  ever  be 
fore  been  brought  to  the  hammer  in  the  country.  Some  of 
the  farmers  wanted  the  blooded  stock,  others  wanted  his 
carts  and  oxen ;  women  wanted  the  nice  bedding  and  furni 
ture.  They  fingered  the  teacups,  handled  the  dresses  which 
Mrs.  Krinkle  had  worn,  —  left  hanging  in  the  presses  ;  peeped 
into  the  -drawers  that  contained  her  linen  ;  opened  her  dress 
ing-case  and  tried  on  the  kid  gloves  that  had  once  been  upon 
her  hands.  Men  tried  on  Captain  Krinkle's  boots,  examined 
the  soles,  to  see  how  much  wear  there  was  in  them,  and  the 
seams,  to  be  certain  that  the  stitches  had  not  started.  They 
put  on  his  coat,  and  asked  their  friends  if  it  fitted ;  and  his 
hat,  to  see  if  they  could  wear  it.  They  chinked  the  teaspoons, 
to  ascertain  if  they  were  solid  silver,  and  the  teakettle,  to  see 
if  it  was  cracked ;  counted  the  dinner  plates,  to  be  sure  that 
none  were  gone  from  the  set ;  sniffed  the  jugs  and  bottles, 
to  discover  'What  had  been  in  them  ;  tasted  of  the  jellies  and 
sauces.  Men  and  women  alike  roamed  from  the  cellar  to 
the  attic,  looking  everywhere  with  prying  eyes. 

Caleb  saw  it  all.  He  heard  the  jests  of  the  auctioneer  and 
the  ribald  laughter  of  the  crowd.  He  saw  the  things  that 
were  endeared  to  him  by  innumerable  associations  go,  one 
by  one,  till  there  was  nothing  left  but  empty  rooms,  —  so 
desolate  and  lone  that  his  own  voice  came  back  to  him  in  a 
mocking  echo. 

It  was  over ;  the  last  article  sold ;  the  farm  in  the  posses 
sion  of  Mr.  Meek,  who  had  bid  it  off  for  the  amount  of  the 
mortgage  and  interest. 

"  Just  about  half  what  it  is  worth,"  said  the  auctioneer. 
But  there  was  no  one  else  at  hand  who  had  eleven  thousand 


How  Things  were   Turned   Topsy-turvy.  J91 

dollars  or  more  to  spare,  and  so  the  fertile  acres  which  Mr. 
Meek  had  often  wished  to  obtain  were  at  last  in  his  posses 
sion. 

Fatherless,  motherless,  homeless,  penniless,  Caleb  stood  on 
the  threshold  of  life,  a  bright  past  behind  him,  and  a  future 
without  a  ray  of  light  to  dispel  the  gloom. 

"  Make  my  house  your  home  till  you  can  look  about  you," 
said  Mr.  Makepeace. 

"  Come  with  me,  White  Hair,"  said  Dan."  "  Our  house 
is  small,  but  there  is  room  for  you.  Mother  and  I  have 
talked  it  all  over,  and  she  said,  '  Bring  him  by  all  means.' 
We  have  put  up  a  bed  for  you  at  one  end  of  the  garret, 
where  your  nose  will  be  within  six  inches  of  the  shingles, 
and  where  you  can  hear  the  music  of  the  rain  on  the  roof. 
We  shall  have  something  to  eat  to-day,  to-morrow,  and 
next  clay.  Now  don't  say  a  word  about  it,  but  just  come 
right  along." 

Caleb  could  not  refuse  such  an  invitation,  and  taking  his 
bundle  of  clothes  in  his  hand,  —  all  that  the  rlood  had  left 
him  of  the  great  estate,  — taking  one  last  glance  of  the  cham 
ber  where  he  had  always  slept,  at  the  sitting-room,  where 
for  a  moment  all  the  past  swept  over  him  with  its  tender 
associations,  he  went  out  of  the  door,  turned  the  key  in 
the  lock,  and  gave  it  to  Mr.  Meek,  who  was  standing  on 
the  steps. 

"  Thank  you/'  said  Mr.  Meek,  bowing  graciously  as  he 
always  bowed. 

With  a  great  effort  Caleb  kept  back  the  tears.  It  was 
in  his  heart  to  say,  "I  Hope  life  will  be  as  pleasant  to  you 
here  as  it  has  been  to  me,"  but  he  could  not  speak  the 
.words.  He  bowed  in  return,  and  passed  on  to  join  Dan, 
who  was  waiting  for  him  by  the  gate. 

As  Dan  had  said,  it  was  a  small  house  in  which  he  and 


1 92  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

his  mother  lived.  There  was  a  kitchen,  bed-room,  and  a 
small  parlor  on  the  ground  floor,  a  narrow  stairway  lead 
ing  to  the  attic,  where  Dan's  bed  stood  at  one  end,  and  at 
the  other  the  bed  which  they  had  put  up  for  Caleb.  Un 
der  the  eaves  were  boxes  and  barrels,  and  a  pile  of  old 
books  and  papers  which  Dan  had  picked  from  the  rubbish 
that  had  found  its  way  into  his  cart.  It  was  a  collection, 
which  would  have  gladdened  the  eyes  of  a  bibliomaniac. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Caleb.     We  will  do  the  best-' 
we  can  to  make  you  comfortable,"  said  Mrs.  Dishaway. 

While  lying  awake  at  night,  thinking  over  the  change  that 
had  come  to  him,  of  the  kindness  of  Don  and  his  mother 
in  the  hour  of  his  great  extremity,  Caleb's  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  he  could  but  hope  that  the  best  blessings  of 
Heaven  would  re~,t  upon  them  forever. 

The  change  that  had  taken  place  in  Millbrook  was  the 
one  topic  of  conversation  at  the  hotel,  the  store,  and  every 
where  else,  on  week-day  and  on  Sunday. 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  like!"  was  Mrs.  Gabberly's  ex 
clamation  to  Miss  Hyssop  on  Sunday  noon,  as  they  sat 
down  in  the  church-yard  to  eat  their  lunch.  The  sods 
which  a  few  weeks  before  bod  been  bi:l  upon  Mrs.  Krinkle's 
grave  were  springing  fresh  and  green  beneath  the  warm 
May  sun.  and  the  sight  of  them  brought  the  subject  vividly 
•before  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

"  The  ways  of  Providence  are  very,  very  mysterious," 
Miss  Hyssop  replied  solemnly. 

"  That  is  just  what  my  husband  said.  Who  would  have 
thought  it!  It  beats  aH  I  ever  did  see;  such  a  turning  of 
things  topsy-turvy.  Mrs.  Krinkle  buried  here.  Captain 
Krinkle  drowned,  the  property  only  paying  ihe  debts.  Mr. 
Meek  in  possession  of  the  farm,  Caleb  living  with  Dan 


How  Things  were  Turned   Topsy-tun'y.  193 

Dishmvay,  ar  d  all  within  a  few  weeks  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

"  This  is  a  world  of  change,  and  we  don't  l;no\v  who'll 
be  v.p  or  down  to-morrow,  and  it  stands  us  in  hand  to  keep 
our  lamps  trimmed  an.!  burning."  Miss  Hyssop  remarked. 

"That  is  so.  But  what  a  coming  down  it  has  been  for 
Caleb!  I  don't  know  as  we  ought  to  say  in  l.is  cr.se  l!:at 
pride  goeth  before  destruction,  but  then  1  always  ihcugl.t 
lie  was  a  little  stuck  up.  But  dear  me,  that  reminds  n~,c 
to  ask  if  you  have  heard  the  news." 

'•  What  news  ?  '' 

"Why,  that.  Jonathan  Jolly  and  Miss  GT.iflower  are 
going  to  be  married  right  off." 

'•  You  don't  say  !  Why.  how  long  has  that  been  going 
on  ':  " 

"I  don't  know.  They  have  kept  it  mighty  sly,  though 
they  say  that  Jonathan  has  had  his  eye  on  her  this  ever 
so  long,  and  r.o\v  that  Captain  Krinkle  is  dead,  and  he 
won't  be  wanted  any  more  on  the  farm, -they  are  going  to 
hitch  horses.  They  say  he  has  bought  a  farm  over  t'other 
side  of  the  river,  and  that  Miss  Gilliilower  was  buying  her 
crockery  and  getting  her  fitting-out  yesterday  at  Mr. 
Meek's." 

"That  is  news,  I  declare.     I  wonder  who  will  go  next." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said  to  my  husband.  Says  I  to 
him,  'W:e  may  expect  any  day  to  hear  that  Miss  Hyssop 
has  popped  off.' '' 

"  Mrs.  Gabberly  !  " 

"  Well,  cf  course  I  didn't  mean  any  thing  by  it,  only  it 
came  so  natural  I  couldn't  help  it." 

Mrs.  Gabberly  had  saicl  truly.  Jonathan  had  purchased 
a  fa  in.  and  Miss  Gilliflower  was  making  preparations 
for  housekeeping.  When  the  next  Sabbath  afternoon  crime 


194  Caleb  Krinkle. 

round,  Jonathan  astonished  all  the  congregation  by  walk 
ing  up  the  broad  aisle  with  Miss  Gilliflower  on  his  arm, 
while  the  minister  stepped  down  from  the  pulpit,  and  stood 
on  the  platform  in  front  of  it,  and  joined  them  in  the  holy 
bonds  of  matrimony. 

The  people  did  not  expect  it ;  even  Mrs.  Gabberly  had 
not  got  wind  of  what  was  going  to  happen  on  that  particu 
lar  Sunday,  and  was  vexed  with  Jonathan  and  Miss  Gilli 
flower  that  they  had  not  given  some  indication  of  it. 

When  the  services  were  over,  there  was  a  general  shak 
ing  of  hands  in  the  porch,  and  hearty  wishes  were  offered 
for  the  happiness  of  the  newly  married  pair,  and  all  went 
home  rejoicing  at  what  had  happened.  No,  not  everyone, 
for  Deborah  was  there,  and  saw  the  stalwart  man  and  Miss 
Gilliflower  pass  up  the  aisle  while  the  choir  were  singing 
the  last  hymn,  and  when  she  clasped  her  hand  upon  her 
•  side,  no  one  mistrusted  that  it  was  to  still  the  throbbing  of 
her  heart.  As  a  ship  founders  at  sea,  so  had  her  hope  of 
life  gone  down,  —  one  plunge  and  all  was  over.  If  she 
wept,  no  one  saw  the  tears  ;  they  were  shed  in  secret.  No 
one  ever  knew  that  she  was  carrying  a  sorrow,  not  even 
her  most  intimate  friends,  and  so  her  subsequent  course  of 
action  was  a  mystery. 

Now  that  Deborah  was  without  a  home,  Mr.  Jacob 
Nubbin  thought  it  a  good  time  to  offer  her  one.  Perhaps 
the  .marriage  of  Jonathan  and  Miss  Gilliflower  may  have 
stimulated  him,  for  if  suicides  and  murders  sometimes 
become  epidemic,  why  not  marriages  ?  Mr.  Nubbin  had 
become  quite  regular  in  his  attendance  at  meeting,  not 
only  at  the  day  service,  but  at  the  prayer-meeting  in  the 
evening,  and  Deacon  Goodman  rejoiced  in  spirit  when  he 
saw  such  hopeful  indications  in  Mr.  Nubbin. 

There  came  a  night  when  Jacob  seemed  to.be  unusually 


How  Things  were  Turned  Topsy-turvy.  195 

interested.  He  did  not  fall  asleep  during  the  prayers. 
He  did  not  gap  even,  but  sat  with  his  eyes  wide  open, 
which  was  another  hopeful  sign  to  the  Deacon.  When 
the  meeting  was  over,  Mr.  Nubbin,  instead  of  hurrying 
home,  loitered  by  the  door.  x 

"  I  s'pose  you've  no  objection  to  my  seeing  you  home, 
Debby,"  he  said,  as  she  came  out  of  the  vestry. 

Love  delights  in  pet  names,  and  young  men  and  maid 
ens,  bachelors  and  spinsters,  husbands  and  wives,  for  that 
matter,  do  not  always  consider  whether  the  names  are  soft 
or  silly  ;  it  is  sufficient  that  they  are  sweet  and  tender. 
Debby  was  sweeter  than  Deborah,  in  Mr.  Nubbin's  estima 
tion. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Deborah,  taking  his  arm. 

"  It  makes  me  feel  real  good  to  go  with  ye,  only  you 
haven't  got  no  home  now." 

"  No,  I  haven't." 

"That's  just  what  I've  been  thinking  of,  and  I  thought 
I'd  ask  ye  if  ye  didn't  want  one." 

"  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  one  ;  there  are  lots 
of  folks  that  want  me  to  work  for  them." 

"  Bat  working  out  ain't  like  having  a  home,  is  it?  Now, 
see  here,  Debby,  I  set  lots  by  you.  I've  watched  ye  ever 
so  many  times  when  ye  didn't  know  it,  and  I've  said  to 
myself  for  ever  so  long,  '  I  want  Debby  to  be  Mrs.  Nub 
bin.'  " 

He  waited  a  moment  for  her  to  reply,  but  she  was 
silent 

"  Ye  see  I  am  kinder  lonesome  up  in  the  old  house. 
Marm  is  dead  now.  I've  been  doing  my  own  cooking,  and 
I  don't  like  it.  I  wish  you  would  come  and  do  it  for  me. 
There  won't  be  only  us  two.  All  the  money  we  get  we  can 


196  Caleb  Krinkle. 

have.  I've  got  some  now,  and  with  you  to  help,  I'll  get  a 
lot  more,  and  you  shall  have  some  of  it  " 

"  I  haven't  anybody  but  myself  to  look  after,  and  I  guess 
I  can  get  along,"  Djborah  replied. 

"  Yes,  I  'spect  you  can  ;  but  I  love  you,  Debby.  I'll  buy 
you  a  bran-fire  new  dress,  and  I'll  get  lots  of  things. 
There's  a  bushel  or  more  of  rags  up  stairs  in  the  garret, 
and  you  shall  have  'em  to  do  just  what  you  are  a  mincl  to 
with  'em.  You  may  buy  a  new  skimmer,  or  coffee-pot,  or  any 
thing  else,  when  Dan  Dishaway  conies  round." 

Dan  Dishaway!  Deborah  thought  of  the  evening  when 
he  said,  "I  worship  the  ground  you  walk  on  and  always 
shall,"  but  she  had  refused  him.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  better  not  to  have  said,  "  I  cannot  be  your  wife,"  but 
who  would  have  thought  that  Jonathan  would  go  and  take 
up  with  Miss  Gilliflower?  If  she  refused  Jacob's  offer 
now,  what  coulcl  she  hope  for  in  the  future?  Perhaps  she 
could  learn  to  love  him,  all  hough  he  was  twenty  years 
older  than  herself, ••flfhd  would  be  an  old  gray-haired  man 
when  she  was  in  her  prime  !  He  was  frosty  now  about  the 
temples,  and  the  white  hairs  were  showing  themselves  in 
his  whiskers.  Did  not  young  girls  in  New  York  and  Bos 
ton  marry  old  men,  especially  when  they  had  houses  and 
lands  and  money  in  the  bank?  Jf  they  could  learn  to  love 
old  men,  why  could  not  she?  If  they  lived  happily  with  a 
husband  old  enough  to  be  their  father  or  grandfather,  why 
coulcl  not  she  ?  With  so  much  money  as  Jacob  had  laid 
away,  she  would  be  able  to  have  all  the  dresses  she 
wanted,  a  new  bonnet  every  spring  and  fall,  and  every 
thing  else  to  make  her  comfortable.  Although  Jacob 
wasn't  very  handsome,  yet  with  a  new  broadcloth  frock 
coat  and  pantabons,  with  his  whiskers  trimmed  and  hair 
combed,  he  would  be  quite  good-looking,  even  if  his  upper 


IIou  Things  were  Turned  Topsy-turvy,  197 

tcclh  did  jut  over  his  under  ones.  Who  could  tell  what  he 
would  be  in  the  future,  now  that  he  went  to  meeting  regu 
larly?  And  perhaps  she  could  be  the  means  of  bringing 
him  up  to  a  higher  position.  Wouldn't  it  be  worth  while 
to  marry  him  for  the  sake  of  making  him  what  he  might 
be  ?  So  the  thoughts  came  crowding  upon  her,  all  started 
by  the  inemi:n  of  Dan  Dishaway's  name. 

"  Say,  Debby,  won't  you  come  and  live  with  me  ?  If  ye 
only  will,  we'll  make  things  hum,  I  tell  you.  It  ain't  every 
gal  that  I  would  ax,  but  I've  sot  my  heart  on  getting  you. 
I  have,  jest  as  sure  as  you're  alive." 

Had  set  his  heart  on  getting  her!  Then  he  must  love 
her.  What  if  she  did  not  love  him  now,  perhaps  it  would 
be  all  right  in  the  end. 

Woman's  actions  at  times  are  wholly  unaccountable, — 
not  to  be  explained  by  any  desires  to  be  gratified  or  ends 
to  be  accomplished.  Anger,  jealousy,  hate,  resentment, 
revenge,  singly  or  altogether,  may  impel  human  actions. 
Deborah  just  then  was  not  moved  %  passion;  possibly 
there  was  just  a  little  feeling  of  resentment  at  the  course 
Jonathan  had  taken,  but  he  never  had  dallied  with  her 
affections,  and  how  could  she  be  angry  ?  She  could  not  say 
that  he  had  been  aught  but  manly  in  all  his  acts,  and  she 
would  have  resented  any  imputation  to  the  contrary.  He 
had  only  turned  away  from  her  and  married  MissGilliflower. 
But  she  was  in  no  mood  to  listen  to  whatever  reason  or 
conscience  might  have  to  say,  and  so  upset  the  fine  theories 
of  mental  and  moral  philosophers,  that  every  human  action 
has  its  corresponding  motive,  or,  if  she  did  not  upset  them, 
made  such  a  muddle  of  them  that  Sir  William  Hamilton, 
Herbert  Spencer,  and  John  Stuart  Mill  would  not  be  able 
to  say  what  was  what  in  regard  to  it. 

The  people  of  Millbrook  could  not  understand  it  then,. 


198  Caleb  Krinkle. 

nor  have  they  been  able  since  to  see  how  it  ever  came  about 
that  Deborah  became  Mrs.  Jacob  Nubbin.  But  she  is  not 
the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  has  bitten  her  own  nose 
off  for  she  knew  not  what;  who  has  done  it  in  haste  and 
repented  at  leisure. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LOVE   THAT   CAN    WAIT. 

WHAT  to  clo, is  a  perplexing  question  to  all  of  us 
at  times.  It  confronted  Caleb. 

"  What  would  you  clo  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?  "  he  said 
to  Dan,  his  friend  and  comforter,  knowing  that  he  was 
clear-headed,  and  a  close  observer  of  men  and  things. 

"  Well,  White  Hair,  let  us  turn  it  over  a  little.  What  do 
you  want  to  do?  " 

':  I  want  to  take  hold  of  something  that  is  light  and 
easy.'1 

"  Yes ;  that  is  natural.  Light  and  easy  is  what  we  all 
want.  I  take  it  that  you  want  to  be  a  man,  —  I  don't 
mean  twenty-one  years  of  age,  for  that  don't  make  a  fellow 
a  man  by  a  long  chalk;  but  you  want  all  the  qualities  that 
g3  to  make  up  just  such  a  man  as  your  father  was." 

"  Yes  ;   I  should  like  to  be  such  a  man  as  he  was." 

•'Well,  my  opinion  is  that  Light  and  Easy  —  and  I  guess 
that  we  had  better  add  Respectable  and  Profitable,  for  I 
have  noticed  that  folks  who  want  to  do  light  and  easy 
things,  want  them  to  be  respectable  and  profitable  at  the 
same  time  —  don't  make  that  class  of  men.  It  is  hard  work 
that  makes  men,  provided  there  is  the  right  sort  of  stuff 
in  'em  to  begin  with.  There  are  lots  of  the  Light  and  Easy 
sort  in  the  world  who  are  waiting  for  something  respecta- 

109 


aoo  Caleb  KrinMc. 

ble  and  profitable  to  come  along,  just  as  a  man  once  sat 
down  on  the  bank  of  a  river  and  waited  to  have  it  get 
done  running,  so  that  he  could  cross  without  wetting  his 
feet.  He  didn't  cross,  did  he?  No  more  will  these  light 
and  easy  fellows  who  are  waiting  for  something  respecta 
ble  and  profitable.  Any  thing  is  respectable  that  is  honest. 
Honest  sweat,  is  always  respectable.  Some  things  may 
not  be  quite  so  nice  and  clean  and  inviting,  and  not  quite 
so  much  to  our  taste,  as  others,  but  if  a  thing  is  honest  it 
is  respectable.  Now  my  picking  up  rags  and  pelts  and 
odds  and  ends  ain't  very  elevating,  I  know,  but  it  is  hon 
est;  just  as  honest  as  Meek's  selling  calico,  cheese,  cattle, 
or  anything  else;  just  as  honest — I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
it  was  a  little  more  so  —  as  the  making  of  pleas  in  court 
by  the  lawyers,  and  equally  respectable.  You  have  got  to 
get  your  bread:  that  is  the  first  point  ;  stick  a  pin  there. 
I  have  told  you  that  this  is  to  be  your  home  till  you  can 
get  started;  you  are  welcome,  and  you  always  will  be  wel 
come,  to  such  as  we  have.  It  ain't  much,  but  it  is  better 
than  nothing.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  have  you  here,  but 
you  can't  afford  to  remain.  You  have  got  to  dive  at 
something,  just  as  I  made  a  dive  for  you  in  the  pond. 
Your  manhood  lies  out  in  the  future;  you  can't  sec  it, 
don't  know  just  where  it  lies,  but  it  is  there,  and  you  have 
got  to  do  the  best  you  can  to  get  it.  Second  point:  you've 
got  to  make  a  start.  Now  when  I  want  to  get  to  a  place 
and  can't  take  the  best  road,  I  put  up  with  the  next  best; 
and  so  if  you  can't  do  as  you  want  to,  do  as  you  can.  If 
you  can't  hold  a  plough,  maybe  you  can  drive  a  team  ;  if 
you  can't  get  a  team  to  drive,  maybe  you  can  shovel  dirt. 
But  it  don't  follow  that  you  have  got  to  do  either.  Now 
let  us  see  what  you  are  fit  for.  You've  a  good  common 
school  education.  You  can  write  and  cipher,  and  know 


Love  that  can  Wait.  201 

enough  to  do  business.  You've  good  health  and  pluck 
and  better  than  all  the  rest,  principle.  There's  where  I'm 
going  to  bet  on  you,  White  Hair.  Principle  is  like  the 
balance  wheel  in  the  engine,  —  it  keeps  the  whole  machine 
steady.  There  are  ever  so  many  fellows  —  young  chaps, 
and  old,  too,  for  that  matter —  who  have  energy  and  pluck 
and  every  thing  of  that  sort  to  send  'em  ahead,  but  the  first 
thing  you  know  they  are  off  on  some  wild  goose  chase  or 
other  because  they  haven't  any  balance  wheel.  Now  per 
haps  you  think  I'm  preaching  to  you,  White  Hair?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Dan,"  Caleb  replied,  greatly  interested  in  the 
observations  of  his  philosophic  friend. 

"Well,  White  Hair,  preaching  is  good,  but  practice  is 
better.  When  you  come  to  that,  just  look  at  mother;  her 
life  is  one  grand  sermon  from  beginning  to  end." 

Dan  took  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  wallet,  yellowed  and 
worn  by  long  carrving,  and  handed  it  to  Caleb. 

J  rt  *          O ' 

"There,  White  Hair,  that  is  what  she  wrote  off  for  me 
when  I  first  began  to  buy  rags  and  sheep  skins,  and  I've 
tried  to  live  by  it."  Caleb  took  the  paper  and  read  :  — 

Strict  integrity. 

Finn  purpose. 

Constant  endeavor. 

Patient  waiting. 

Trust  in  GoJ. 

"  Her  life,  White  Hair,  has  been  a  sermon,  and  those 
are  the  heads  of  it.  They  are  good  points  to  go  by.  I 
reckon  that  if  you  put  them  with  your  pluck,  energy,  good 
health,  and  the  example  of  your  father,  and  the  teachings 
of  your  mother,  that  you  will  win.  Adopt  them,  my  boy, 
and  then  strike  out,  and  God  bless  you." 

Men  with  the  appendage  of  LL.  D.  or  D.  D.  to  theii 
names,  and  considered  competent  to  doctor  law  or  divin- 


2O2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

ity,  might  have  had  more  method  in  philosophizing,  but 
they  could  not  have  produced,  in  a  whole  treatise,  any 
thing  more  cheering  and  encouraging  to  Caleb  than  the 
talk  which  Dan  had  given. 

"  Thank  you,  Dan.  I  will  strike  out.  I  can't  stay  here 
in  Millbrook." 

Why  could  he  not  stay  there  ?  The  farmers  would  give 
him  employment;  he  could  work  in  haying  and  harvest; 
he  could  drive  a  team,  hold  a  plough,  or  swing  the  scythe  ; 
there  were  friends  who  would  sympathize  with  him,  and 
who  would  give  him  a  lift  now  and  then,  but  he  recalled 
an  old  proverb  that  when  the  tree  is  falling  all  run  with 
their  hatchets.  He  had  already  seen  enough  of  human 
nature  to  know  that  there  are  some  in  every  community 
who  seem  to  take  delight  in  cutting  the  fallen  tree  into 
fire-wood,  and  in  chipping  out  character  with  their  little 
hatchets.  Strangers,  sometimes,  are  more  friendly  than 
friends. 

It  would  be  far  better  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  meet 
whatever  difficulties  he  might  encounter,  and  overcome 
them,  or  go  down  in  the  battle  even,  than  to  stay  where  he 
would  be  hourly  reminded  of  the  change  that  had  come  to 
him.  Cockle  boats  creep  along  the  shore,  but  gallant 
ships  sail  over  the  ocean.  Better  to  spread  the  sails  and 
strike  out  for  lands  beyond  the  sea,  even  with  the  risk  of 
going  to  the  bottom  in  a  storm,  than  to  be  worm-eaten  in 
the  home  port.  Such  were  the  reflections  that  came  to 
him. 

"  I  will  go,"  he  said  to  Dan. 

It  was  spoken  with  a  firm  resolution,  and  having  once 
said  it,  the  question  of  what  to  do  was  settled.  He  would 
go  quietly.  He  would  not  say  good -by  to  anybody.  None 
should  know  of  ".tion.  None  ?  Yes,  one.  He 


Love  that  can  Wait.  203 

could  not  go  away  without  saying  good-by  to  her.  Per 
haps  he  might  never  meet  her  again.  In  clays  past  he  had 
felt  a  tender  regard  for  Linda.  She  was  poor,  but  with 
thousands  of  dollars  in  prospect,  he  had  drawn  a  bright 
picture  of  the  future,  in  which  she  was  a  central  figure, 
filling  his  life  with  happiness.  That  day-dream  had 
passed  away,  and  there  was  nothing  but  uncertainty  before 
him.  As  sailed  the  voyagers  of  old,  they  knew  not  whither, 
in  search  of  undiscovered  lands,  so  he  was  going  out  in 
search  of  manhood,  fortune,  ease,  comfort,  joy  and  happi 
ness,  and  if  he  found  them  he  would  come  back  and  pour 
them  out  at  her  feet,  that  her  life  might  be  beautiful  for 
ever.  But  the  years  would  be  long,  the  way  weary,  the 
changes  many.  Would  she  await  his  return  ?  Would  she 
accept  his  gifts  when  he  brought  them  ?  Would  she  not 
then  be  beyond  his  reach,  filling  another's  home  with  sun 
shine  by  her  presence  ?  Be  it  as  it  might,  he  could  not  go 
without  saying  good-by  to  her.  He  must  look  once  more 
upon  her  fair  brow,  and  gaze  into  her  earnest  eyes ;  must 
hear  again  the  sweet  melody  of  her  voice. 

The  evening  was  calm,  and  the  stars  shining  from  an 
unclouded  sky,  when  Caleb  ascended  the  hill  to  bid  her 
good-by.  Linda  was  standing  beneath  the  porch.  She  saw 
him,  and  met  him  at  the  gate. 

"  Good-evening,  Caleb,"  she  said,  opening  it  for  him. 
She  had  been  looking  down  upon  the  deserted  house,  with 
its  closed  blinds,  as  the  shadows  were  settling  upon  the 
valley,  and  was  thinking  of  the  night  that  had  settled  upon 
him,  —  wishing  that  she  could  do  something  to  cheer  him. 
They  walked  up  the  path  hand  in  hand,  as  they  had  many 
times  in  childhood,  and  passed  into  the  pleasant  sitting- 
room. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Caleb  ? "  said  Mr'   Fair.      The  grip 


204.  d//W  Kriniie. 

of  his  brawny  hand  was  always  hearty,  but  heartier  at  that 
moment,  Caleb  thought,  than  he  had  ever  known  it. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  dropped  in,'' he  continued,  "for  I 
have  had  a  letter  come  to-day  through  the  post  office,  and  I 
don't  know  what  to  make  of  it.  I  don't  have  many  letters, 
for  nobody  outside  of  Millbrook  knows  me,  except  the  team 
sters  from  up  country,  who  have  their  horses  shod  now  and 
then.  It  is  mailed  at  Boston,  and  is  about  Winifred.  There 
is  a  one  hundred  dollar  bill  in  it  for  her.  And  what  is 
stranger  than  all,  there  isn't  any  signature  to  the  letter, — 
nothing  to  tell  who  it  came  from.  It's  all  a  puzzle.  I 
wanted  to  talk  it  over  with  somebody,  and  was  trying  to 
think  who  it  was  best  to  go  to,  and  had  about  made  up  my 
mind  to  go  and  see  either  Mr.  Meek,  Lawyer  Makepeace, 
or  you." 

"  Why  me  ?  "  Caleb  asked  with  surprise. 

"Because  you  are  in  a  sense  a  party  in  this  wonderful 
come-about  of  things,  seeing  that  your  father  went  home 
to  heaven,  and  all  your  prospects  in  life  were  changed,  in 
connection  with  Winifred's  rescue  ;  but  more  than  that,  I 
think  that  you  have  got  good  common  sense,  and  can  keep 
a  thing  to  yourself.  I  wouldn't  like  to  have  the  whole 
town  know  about  this  letter,  especially  Mrs.  Gabberly,  for 
then  everybody  would  know  all  there  is  in  it  and  a  great 
deal  more.  If  I  wanted  to  make  out  a  deed,  I  would  sim 
ply  say,  '  Know  Mrs.  Gabberly  by  these  presents,'  for  then 
all  hands  would  know  it." 

Caleb  and  Linda  laughed.     Mr.  Fair  continued  :  — 

"  No  ;  I  don't  want  the  town  to  know  it,  and  I  am  sure 
nobody  will  hear  it  from  you." 

"I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  show  that  I  am  worthy  of 
your  confidence." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  consult  with  Mr.  Meek  in  regard 
to  it,  father,"  said  Linda. 


Lore  lhat  can  Wait.  205 

"  Vv'hy  not,  my  dear?" 

"  Because  I  don't  like  him." 

"\Yliy  don't  you  like  him?" 

"Because  I  don't." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  a  woman's  reason,"  he  said,  patting  her  play 
fully  on  the  shoulder. 

"I  can't  tell  you  why  I  don't  like  him,  but  I  don't.  I 
haven't  any  confidence  in  him." 

"What  can  have  put  it  into  your  noddle  to  distrust  him? 
There  isn't  a  man  in  society,  since  Caleb's  father  was 
taken  away,  who  gives  so  liberally  to  support  the  gospel." 

"I  don't  know  what  has  put  it  into  my  head,  but  I 
haven't  any  confidence  in  him,  and  I  do  hope  you  won't 
coursel  with  him  about  Winifred.  She  is  my  child,  father." 

"  So  she  is,  Puss,  and  if  you  don't  want  me  to,  I  won't 
say  a  word  to  Mr.  Meek." 

"Thank  you,  father;  I  think  that  we  can  devise  some 
way  to  dispose  of  the  matter.  If  we  only  knew  who  the 
letter  came  from  we  would  send  it  back." 

"  Isn't  there  any  thing  in  the  letter  which  will  give  a  clew 
as  to  who  sent  it  ?  "  Caleb  asked. 

"  Nothing  ;  but  get  the  letter,  Little  Maid,  so  that  White 
Hair  can  see  for  himself,"  said  Mr.  Fair. 

Linda  brought  a  light  and  the  letter,  and  sat  down  by 
the  side  of;  Caleb  while  he  read  it. 

It  was  a  brief  note  on  a  half  sheet ;  thus  it  read  :  — 

"  T  have  learned  that  in  the  recent  freshet,  a  child,  whose  father  and 
mother  are  supposed  to  have  been  drowned,  is  under  your  care  and  pro 
tection.  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in  the  little  waif  thus  thrown  into  your 
arms,  and  the  enclosed  is  sent  for  her  benefit." 

"What  do  you  mako  of  that,  White  Hair?  "Mr.  Fair 
asked,  after  Caleb  had  read  it  a  second  time. 


206  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Caleb  looked  at  the  writing  some  time  before  replying,  as 
if  weighing  every  word.  At  length  he  said, — 

:'  Going  at  it  after  the  manner  of  Mr.  Makepeace,  who 
always  picks  a  thing  to  pieces,  to  see,  as  he  says,  what  it  is 
made  of,  I  should  say  that  there  might  be  two  theories. 
It  may  have  been  written  by  a  very  benevolent  man, — 
one  of  the  rich  men  of  Boston,  who  has  so  much  money  that 
he  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  who  has  heard  of 
the  matter,  and  who  wants  to  do  good  in  this  way.  Then 
there  is  the  other  theory,  that  he  is  in  some  way  personally 
interested  in  Winifred.  He  feels  a  "  deep  interest  "  in  her. 
That  indicates  something  more  than  mere  benevolence. 
It  is  a  deep  interest,  —  something  more  than  common, 
—  an  interest  so  great  that  he  sends  a  very  liberal  amount 
of  money.  And  then  he  wants  it  spent  for  her  benefit;  not 
to  remunerate  you.  Perhaps  the  writer  didn't  stop  to 
weigh  every  word  in  the  letter,  but  there  is  an  undertone 
of  selfishness  in  it,  to  my  mind." 

"  Why,  White  Hair,  you  are  equal  to  Mr.  Makepeace  in 
picking  a  thing  to  pieces.  You'd  better  be  a  lawyer,"  said 
Mr.  Fair. 

"  Then  there  is  another  thing,"  said  Caleb,  looking  at  the 
writing  again.  "  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  that  is  an  assumed 
hand.  It  isn't  an  easy  hand,  but  stiff  and  constrained  and 
irregular.  I  can't  but  think  it  was  written  by  somebody 
who  wanted  to  cover  himself  up  so  closely  that  no  clew 
would  be  obtained  by  his  handwriting.  I  don't  think  a 
man  acting  from  purely  benevolent  motives  would  carry 
his  concealment  so  far.  It  would  not  be  natural." 

"  No,"  said  Linda,  with  beaming  eyes,  thinking  the  while 
that  Mr.  Makepeace  could  not  have  done  better 

"There  is  something  strange  about  that  writing.  It  seems 
as  if  I  had  seen  something  like  it  before,  but  when  or  where 


Love  that  can  Wait.  207 

I  cannot  remember,"  said  Caleb.  He  looked  at  it  again  and 
again,  but  the  glinv.nering  memories,  if  they  were  memories, 
would  not  shape  themselves  into  certainties. 

"Well,  what  shall  be  done  with  the  money?"  Mr.  Fair 
asked. 

'•I  don't  want  a  cent  of  it  spent  for  Winifred,"  said  Linda. 

"'Why  not,  my  dear?  " 

''Because  somebody  will  come  along  by  and  by  and  lay 
claim  to  her  on  that  account,  and  I  don't  intend  ever  to  give 
her  up  to  anybody,"  she  replied  with  decision. 

"Of  course  we  can't  give  her  up  only  to  her  parents,  and 
they,  in  all  probability,  are  drowned. 

"  To  keep  anybody  from  having  a  shadow  of  a  right  on 
the  ground  of  having  supported  her,  I  don't  want  to  keep 
the  money.  I  wish  we  could  send  it  back,"  Linda  repeated. 

"  But  we  can't,  my  love." 

"What  shall  we  do  with  it,  then?"  Father  and  daughter 
both  looked  at  Caleb,  to  hear  what  he  would  say. 

"  I've  been  thinking  that  you  might  put  it  into  the  savings 
bank,  in  trust,  for  Winifred.  It  would  be  drawing  interest. 
If  you  ever  get  a  clew  to  the  sender,  you  can  return  it ;  if 
you  don't,  it  will  be  quite  a  sum  when  she  grows  up  and  be 
comes  of  age,"  said  Caleb. 

"  That's  so  ;  and  that's  what  we'll  do  with  it.  Don't  you 
think  we  had  better,  Little  Maid?" 

"  Yes,  by  all  means,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  the  thought  upper 
most  in  Linda's  mind  was  what  Dan  had  said  to  her  about 
Caleb,  —  that  his  was  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders. 

"Well,  Caleb,  I  will  leave  you  to  talk  the  matter  over  with 
Little  Maid.  It  is  about  time  for  me  to  be  in  bed,"  and  the 
blacksmith  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe.  "  I  suppose 
young  folks  don't  care  'to  have  the  old  ones  round,  any 
more  than  I  did  when  I  was  of  your  age,"  he  said,  as  he 


2oS  Ciikb  Krinklc. 

rose  to  go.  All  I  have  to  say  is,  be  good  children,  and 
don't  sit  up  too  late." 

Caleb  appreciated  the  delicate  sensibility  of  the  dear  good 
man,  bat  he  could  not  let  him  go  till  h-  had  told  hi.n  of  his 
own  plan. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Fair;  but  before  you  go  I  \vant  to  shake 
hands  \vith  you.  I  shall  not  see  you  again  very  soon.  I  am 
going  away  to-morrow." 

"  doing  away  !  "  exclaimed  father  and  daughter. 

"  Yes,  I  hope  to  be  a.vay  from  Millbrook  by  sunrise." 

"So  soon?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  out  into  the  world,  I  don't  know  \vhere. 
I  feel  that  there  is  something  for  nu  to  do  somewhere,  and 
the  quicker  I  find  it  the  better  for  me.  I  cannot  be  here  in 
the  future  what  I  have  been.  You  know,  Mr.  Fair,  that  with 
some  people  circumstances  make  the  man,  rather  than  the  man 
himself.  I  can  already  see  and  feel  it.  I  have  got  to  make 
my  way  in  the  world.  I  must  get  my  education,  and  it  is  quite 
time  I  was  about  it.  I  shall  start  trusting  to  bring  up  som> 

O  O          i 

where." 

"  We  shall  miss  you,  Caleb,  but  you  have  the  right  of  it. 
I'm  glad  you  are  going.  It  will  be  better  for  you  in  the  end. 
Ypu  can  do  more  somewhere  else  than  you  can  hire,  and  all 
I  have  to  say  is,  come  back  to  us  when  you  can,  do  all  tire 
good  you  can,  and  God  bless  yo.i,"  said  the  blacksmith,  giv 
ing  him  a  farewell  shake  of  the  hand.  HJ  took  the  candle 
from  Little  Maid  and  passed  into  his  bedroom. 

The  moon,  just  past  the  full,  appeared  in  the  eastern  hori 
zon.  Caleb  and  Linda  both  gazed  upon  it  without  speaking. 
But  of  the  moon  they  were  not  thinking. 

Painful  the  silence  where  we  dare  not  open  our  lips  for 
fear  it  may  frighten  away  the  hopes  which  sometimes  hover 
like  timid  doves  around  us.  They  could  hear  the  beating  cf 
their  hearts  in  the  stillness. 


Love  that  can  Wait.  209 

"  Linda,"  he  said,  "  you  have  not  told  me  whether  you  are 
sorry  or  glad  that  I  am  going  away." 

"  Both,"  was  the  faint  reply. 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  My  judgment  tells  me  that  it  is  best  that  you  should  go, 
for  I  can  see  that  there  are  opportunities  otherwheres  for  you 
far  better  than  any  you  can  have  here,  and  yet  I  wish  you 
could  stay." 

"Why  would  you  like  to  have  me  remain  here?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  have  our  friends  with  us, 
and  we  shall  miss  you  very  much.  But  you  have  not  told 
me  where  you  are  going  nor  how  long  you  intend  to  be  gone." 

"  I  don't  know  where  I  shall  turn  up,  but  should  not  won 
der  if  it  was  in  Boston." 

"Will. you  be  gone  long?" 

"I  do  not  intend  to  come  back  till  I  have  won  a  victory 
over  adversity,"  he  said  with  firmness. 

"  There  are  many  temptations  in  the  city,  Caleb." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  him  and  raised  her  deep,  ear 
nest  eyes  to  his.  He  understood  the  appeal  that  was  in 
them,  —  an  entreaty  more  expressive  than  any  words  could 
have  been. 

"  I  know,  Linda,  that  you  would  say,  '  Do  not  yield  to 
the  temptations  that  will  beset  you,'  but  you  are  so  kind- 
hearted  that  you  will  not  speak  your  thoughts,  for  fear  of 
hurting  my  feelings.  Please  let  us  be  frank  with  each  other 
to-night,  for  we  know  not  when  we  shall  meet  again."  He 
took  her  hand  in  his,  as  he  had  taken  it  in  childhood. 

"  I  can  believe  that  there  are  temptations  in  the  city,"  he 
continued,  "such  as  are  hardly  dreamed  of  here  in  this  quiet 
place.  I  know  that  many  a  young  man  who  has  gone  there, 
just  as  I  am  going,  has  yielded  to  them,  —  has  made  ship 
wreck  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  life  itself,  to  the  great  grief  of 
14 


2io  Caleb  Kr inkle, 

his  friends.  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  and  I  think  it  best  to 
go,  notwithstanding.  I  go  with  a  determined  purpose  to  ac 
complish  something  in  life,  and  I  hope  never  to  lose  the  re 
spect  of  my  friends  or  of  myself.  I  mean  at  least  that  you 
shall  never  be  ashamed  of  me." 

He  pressed  the  hand  that  rested  in  his,  and  felt  the  pres 
sure  returned.  Ah  !  that  electric  tnrill,  filling  his  soul  \vith 
ineffable  delight.  He  had  only  come  to  look  into  her  eyes 
once  more,  to  hear  the  sweet  melody  of  her  voice  ;  he 
might  never  see  her  again  ;  or,  if  seeing  her  in  the  future 
years,  she  would  be  no  longer  Little  Maid,  but  a  woman, 
bearing  perchance  another  name.  Suddenly  and  unexpected 
ly  there  had  come  a  supreme  moment.  As  the  moon  in  its 
glory  and  beauty  had  risen  above  the  horizon,  so  a  great 
hope  had  risen  within  him,  and  the  future  was  radiant  with 
light.  He  drew  her  gently  toward  him.  Willingly  her  head 
rested  on  his  bosom.  There  were  no  words  of  plighted  faith, 
no  promise  to  love  and  wait  till  death  might  absolve  them,  but 
thenceforth  their  love  would  be  like  the  loves  of  the  an 
gels, —  changeless  and  pure  and  eternal. 

S.veet  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  around  them  !  The 
.  crickets  chirped  as  they  never  had  chirped  before ;  the 
leaves  of  the  maples  were  tremulous  with  joy.  \Yords  were 
spoken  never  to  be  forgotten.  There  were  tears,  —  blissful 
tears.  Then  they  s:it  in  silence  and  dreamed  of  a  radiant  fu 
ture.  They  walked  arm  in  arm  down  the  beaten  path.  The 
moonglade  lying  on  the  water  of  the  porul  below  them  was 
a  pathwjy  of  light.  Beneath  it  was  the  spot  where  on  that 
sweet  summer  day  his  life  so  nearly  ebbed  away,  but  now, 
though  they  might  be  separated  by  time  and  distance,  they 
were  to  be  forever  united  in  spirit. 

"  In  God's  good  time  I  will  come  to-you,"  he  said. 

"  True  love  can  wait  for  that  time,"  was  the  tender  reply. 

So  they  parted. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

STRIKING   OUT   IN   THE   WORLD. 

THE  rays  cf  the  rising  sun  were  streaming  up  the  east 
ern  sky  \vhen  Caleb  started. 

"God  bless  you,  my  boy;  "  said  Mrs.  Dishaway,  kissing 
him  and  wiping  a  tear  from  her  eye. 

"  You  will  win,  White  Hair.  I  shall  see  you  in  your  old 
home  yet.  Remember  that  courage  is  one -half  of  the  bat 
tle  and  doing  right  the  other  half,"  said  Dan,  as  they  shook 
hands. 

All  the  feathered  tribe  were  astir  before  him,  as  if,  hav 
ing  heard  of  his  intended  departure,  they  had  unanimously 
agreed  to  wake  early  enough  to  bid  him  God-speed.  They 
flattered  around  him  and  sang  to  him  from  every  tree.  The 
great  shaggy  Newfoundland  dog  that  kept  watch  over  Mr. 
Blossom's  premises,  Bell's  clog,  Don  l\clro,  came  out  and 
licked  his  hand  and  trotted  by  his  side,  looking  up  into  his 
face  with  his  sympathetic  eyes  as  if  to  say,  "  I  wish  I  could 
go  with  you."  The  white  curtains  to  Bell's  windows  were 
down  ;  she  was  asleep. 

"Good-by,  Bjll.  Life  will  be  sweet  to  you,  but  bitter  to 
me,"  he  sakl  to  himself  as  he  passed  on. 

He  had  walked  rapidly,  to  be  beyond  the  village  before 
the  sun  appeared,  and  now,  as  he  stood  upon  the  hill,  he 

211 


212  Caleb  Krinkle. 

turned  to  take  n  last  look  at  the  place  where  his  life  thus 
far  had  been  passed.  There  was  no  dust  on  his  feet  to  be 
shaken  off  against  any  individual ;  no  curse,  nor  thought 
of  hardness  in  his  heart.  Mr.  Meek  had  not  yet  moved 
into  the  old  house;  the  blinds  were  all  shut,  and  there  was 
no  sign  of  life  about  the  place.  The  elm  beneath  which 
he  had  played,  which  had  been  as  a  dear  old  friend,  stood 
there  in  its  beauty.  He  would  not  stop  to  think  of  the 
past.  '  It  was  no  time  for  day-dreams.  He  turned  to  look 
once  more  upon  Linda's  home,  half  concealed  by  the  ma 
ples  that  surrounded  it. 

Blessed  vision  !  The  door  opened  and  Linda  came  out, 
as  if  to  greet  the  sun.  She  was  strolling  down  the  walk, 
gazing  at  the  brightening  dawn,  —  brightest  dawn  of  all  to 
her.  Flowers  had  opened  their  petals  during  the  night,  and 
the  air  was  laden  with  their  perfume,  but  there  had  been  a 
blossoming  of  flowers  more  fragrant  than  they.  Hope,  Faith 
and  Love  were  blooming  on  this  fragrant  summer  morn. 
At  every  step  the  world  became  more  beautiful  to  her  won 
dering  eyes. 

She  could  not  see  Caleb,  did  not  know  that  he  was  gaz 
ing  upon  her  from  the  distant  hill,  gazing  till  the  tears 
blinded  his  eyes,  gazing  till  she  disappeared  within  the 
door ;  and  then  he  turned  away  and  left  the  past  behind 
him. 

During  the  day  he  came  upon  a  man  who  was  attempting 
to  drive  a  herd  of  cattle,  but  the  creatures  were  self-willed 
and  chose  to  wander  into  by-ways  and  up  cross-roads, 
greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  the  dust-begrimed,  burly,  red- 
nosed  man  with  a  grizzled  beard,  who  was  trying  to  urge 
them  on.  He  had  shouted  himself  hoarse,  had  run  here 
and  there  till  he  was  completely  blown  in  the  heat.  The 


Striking  Out  in  the  World.  213 

herd  was  turning  from  the  highway  and  the  man  was  pow 
erless  to  prevent  them. 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  said  Caleb.  He  jumped  over  the 
fence,  ran  across  the  field,  and  turned  them  back  again. 

"Much  obleege:!  to  you,  young  man,  much  obleeged. 
You've  done  a  good  sarvice ;  the  fac'  is  I'm  pretty  well 
tuckered  out  I  'spected  my  boy  to  help  me,  but  he's  got 
the  measles;  had  to  stay  at  home;  thought  I'd  try  to  get 
along  alone  ;  but  the  critters  have  acted  as  if  the  old  Harry 
was  in  'em,  blamed  if  they  haint." 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  help  you  a  little." 

The  drover  explained  that  he  must  reach  the  railroad 
before  midnight  and  get  his  herd  upon  the  train ;  that  he 
was  several  hours  behind  time,  and  was  afraid  that  he  could 
not  accomplish  it,  and  that  if  he  failed  he  would  be  many 
dollars  out  of  pocket. 

"  I  will  help  you,"  said  Caleb. 

"  Thank  ye,  and  I'll  make  it  all  right  with  ye  in  the  end." 

With  Caleb's  help  the  drover  was  able  to  make  up  lost 
time,  and  to  reach  the  railroad  and  get  the  cattle  into  the 
cars  long  before  the  train  was  due.  When  all  was  accom 
plished  they  went  into  Tankard's  Tavern  for  supper. 

"Young  man,  I  don't  know  your  name,"  said  the  drover, 
when  the  cattle  were  ready  for  transportation. 

"  Caleb  Krinkle." 

"  Thankee ;  my  name  is  Hyde  ;  most  folks  call  me  Old 
Hyde.  Let  us  get  the  cobwebs  out  of  our  throats  and  then 
we'll  have  some  supper." 

They  entered  the  bar-room,  occupied  by  rough-looking 
men  smoking  pipes  and  cigars. 

"What  will  }ou  have,  Mr.  Krinkle? — Tankard,  set  on 
your  best." 

The  landlord  stood  behind  the  bar,  ready  to  wait  upon 
them. 


214  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Hyde,  but  I  don't  drink  liquor." 

"  Don't  drink  !  Oh,  yes,  take  hold :  rum,  gin,  brandy, 
whiskey,  — what  will  you  have?  " 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"Wai,  I  don't  want  to  urge  ye;  but,  Tankard,  you'll 
drink?  I  don't  want  to  drink  alone  ;  'tain't  sociable." 

"Seeing  it's  you,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  the  landlord, 
who  never  declined  an  invitation  to  drink  his  o\vn  liquor 
when  anybody  else  paid  for  it. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  sparkle  of  the  cut-glass  de 
canters  or  in  the  bright-colored  fluids  within  them  to  tempt 
Caleb  to  drink  a  social  glass  with  his  new-made  acquaint 
ance,  who  had  already  engaged  him  to  assist  in  looking 
after  the  cattle  on  the  train  to  Cambridge  and  Dnghton  : 
but  it  was  not  easy  to  say  no  to  the  invitation  under  the 
circumstances,  for  Caleb  looked  upon  him  as  a  benefactor. 
He  had  said  no,  however,  and  felt  stronger. 

"Have  a  cigar,  Mr.  Krinkle?"  asked  the  drover,  when 
they  had  finished  supper. 

"No,  I  thank  you;  I  don't  smoke." 

"Wai,  I'll  tell  you  what  we  will  do;  we'll  have  a  game 
of  poker  while  waiting  for  the  train." 

"I  am  much  obliged  for  your  invitation,  but  I  do  net 
play  cards." 

"Don't  play  cards!  don't  drink  !  don't  smoke!  Where 
have  you  been  all  your  born  days?  It  strikes  me  your 
ecldication  has  been  somewhat  neglected,"  said  Mr.  Hyde; 
but  he  added  soberly,  :'  Wai,  Mr.  Krinkle,  I  respect  ye 
for  your  principles,  and  all  I  have  to  say  is,  stick  to  'em. 
Here's  my  hand  ;  success  to  you." 

"Thank  you,"  Caleb  replied,  shaking  hands  with  Mr. 
Hyde,  who  thereupon  sat  down  to  play  with  the  loungers 
in  the  room.  Caleb  went  out  upon  the  piazza  to  enjoy  the 
peaceful  evening. 


Sinking  Out  in  the  World.  215 

The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  signalling  the  Approach  of 
ui<:  freight  train  at  length  broke  the  stillness  of  the  nirjht. 

o  o  o 

The  train  stopped  at  the  station;  the  cars  containing  the 
cattle  were  attached,  and  Caleb,  seated  in  the  caboose, 
found  himself  on  the  way  to  Boston,  earning  his  passage 
by  looking  after  the  herd. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CALLING  UPON  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE. 

IN  Boston.  A  quarter  of  a  million  of  people  around 
him,  and  not  one  familiar  face  among  them  all.  Caleb 
was  in  Mrs.  Starvem's  boarding-house.  In  the  lady's 
parlor  was  a  faded  carpet,  a  demoralized  sofa,  chairs  weak 
in  the  legs  and  with  broken  arms  and  disjointed  backs, 
a  cracked  looking-glass  in  a  tarnished  g.lt  frame,  while  upon 
the  mantle  was  an  ornamental  plaster  dog  with  a  broken 
nose,  a  plaster  vase,  containing  plaster  fruir,  very  red  and 
green  and  yellow.  Upon  the  walls  were  portraits  of  the 
Presidents  of  the  United  States,  wearing  buff  vests  and  blue 
or  crimson  or  plum-colored  coats. 

In  the  dining-room  was  a  long  table  covered  with  a 
cloth,  which  might  have  served  for  an  outline  map  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean;  the  Sandwich  Islands  being  represented 
by  coffee  stains,  the  Fiji  group  by  the  drippings  of  gravy, 
and  New  Zealand  by  a  daub  of  catchup. 

Mrs.  Starveni  was  a  lady  who  had  the  faculty  of  making 
a  very  little  go  a  great  way.  She  understood  the  art  of 
purchasing  economical  tenderloins  for  steak,  —  having  the 
butcher  cut  it  from  the  fore-quarter  in  the  vicinity  cf  the 
neck,  instead  of  choosing  it  from  the  hind  quarter.  The 
difference  in§price  was  several  cents  per  pound,  but  her 
boarders  would  never  know  there  was  the  least  difference 

216 


Call  Ing  upon  an  Old  Acquaintance.  217 

in  the  world  in  the  meat  itself.  She  understood  the  art 
of  making  a  little  butter  last  a  long  wl.ile,  by  purchasing 
t>ld  rather  than  new;  and  if,  pci chance,  it  was  not  quite 
sweet  where  it  came  in  contact  with  the  tub,  the  boarders 
would  not  spread  it  quite  so  thickly  on  their  bread,  and 
with  butter  at  fifty  cents  a  pound,  every  ounce  saved  would 
be  two  and  one  half  cents  gained.  If,  on  a  hot  summer 
evening,  with  no  ice  to  keep  it  cool,  the  flies  became 
smothered  in  the  butter,  the  boarders  would  be  reminded 
of  that  sinful  .abomination,  the  Slough  of  Despond,  in 
which  Bunyan's  Christian  was  besmeared,  and  so  while 
eating,  might^raw  a  moral  lesson  ! 

Caleb  leflected  that  the  wants  of  man  are  many  and  his 
needs  few.  He  resolved  to  lock  after  the  needs,  and  give 
th-  wants  the  go-by  till  he  could  gratify  them.  He  needed 
wholesome  food.  He  accordingly  bade  farewell  to  Mrs. 
Starvem,  secured  a  room  in  a  loft  over  a  store,  bought  a 
cot  bed  and  clothes,  a  chair  and  table,  a  bowl  and  spoon, 
plate,  knife  and  fork,  obtained  milk  in  the  morning  of  the 
milkman,  and  rolls  from  the  baker  for  breakfast  and  sup 
per.  Then  he  secured  a  position  in  an  eating  house, 
where,  by  serving  other  people  at  noon,  he  could  earn  a 
good  dinner.  With  one  dollar  a  week  for  a  room,  and 
another  for  breakfast  and  supper,  he  satisfied  his  needs. 
Next  he  obt.iined  a  situation  as  paper-carrier ;  was 
up  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  had  his  clay's  work 
about  done  before  breakfast.  He  could  earn  enough  be 
fore  breakfast,  with  an  hour  at  noon,  to  pay  his  expenses, 
and  the  remainder  of  the  day  he  could  give  to  study.  The 
legal  profession  had  a  charm  for  him.  It  might  be  as  dry 
as  dust  at  times,  but  beneath  all  the  mouldiness  and  dry- 
ness  there  was  the  element  of  justice,  —  the  divine  element, 
the  attribute  of  Deity;  the  righting  of  wrong;  the  power  to 


2i8  Cakb  Krinkk. 

lift  the  fallen,  to  bring  down  the  proiul,  to  combat  evil,  to 
bring  in  the  good.  To  engage  in  such  work  would  be  a 
pleasure,  though  he  knew  that  he  would  always  be  at  a  dis 
advantage,  for  want  of  the  training  that  others  secured  at 
Harvard  and  Yale.  But  he  also  knew  that  method  was  the 
first  requisite  in  disciplining  the  mind,  and  governed  himself 
accordingly.  The  long  morning  walk  in  the  fresh  air  gave 
a  ruddy  glow  to  his  cheeks.  From  breakfast  to  noon  were 
three  and  a  half  hours  when  the  brain  would  be  in  full 
vigor.  These  hours  he  gave  to  the  study  of  the  profession 
he  had  chosen.  No  debts  were  accumulating  •  there  would 
be  no  board-bills  at  the  end  of  the  month. 

To  be  successful  in  his  profession  he  must  have  a  fund 
of  general  intelligence,  and  that  he  could  obtain  at  the 
Public  Library.  In  the  evenings  there  \veie  lectures  and 
concerts,  and  the  doors  of  the  Young  Men's  Association 
were  always  open  to  him,  where  he  was  sure  of  finding 
something  instructive  and  entertaining. 

Mountain  climbing  is  at  the  best  wearisome  business. 
Even  with  boon  companions  to  cheer  the  way,  we  grow 
weary  in  the  legs,  and  sometimes  become  faint-hearted  ; 
but  how  much  greater  the  weariness  and  the  discourage 
ment,  when,  from  the  low  plane  of  bare  existence  to  the 
high  altitudes  of  life,  we  attempt  to  climb  alone  with  no 
sympathetic  voice  to  break  the  solitude;  no  laugh  nor 
cheer  nor  smile  to  raise  our  drooping  spirits  !  Bat  when 
Caleb's  spirits  were  weakest,  then  he  heard  Dan's  voice 
coming  to  him  over  all  the  hills  and  valleys, — 

"  Courage  is  one  half  the  battle,  and  doing  right  the 
other." 

Moses  Meek  was  in  Cambridge,  enjoying  the  advantages 
of  the  University,  with  a  score  of  professors,  and  all  the 


Cauiag  upon  an  Old  Acquaintance.  219 

dead  and  living  languages,  science  and  culture,  to  he!]) 
him  on.  These  aids  he  could  call  around  him  as  Dan 
called  the  bees  from  their  hives  or  the  birds  from  the 
trees,  —  at  will.  He  had  but  to  glance  at  a  text-book  to  be 
master  of  it,  and  then  he  had  abundant  leisure  to  row  upon 
Charles  river,  to  drive  upon  the  Avenue,  to  attend  the 
Opera,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  actors  and  ac 
tresses  in  the  city.  With  means  supplied  without  stint  by 
an  indulgent  father,  who  had  marked  out  a  great  career  for 
him,  every  want  was  gratified. 

Caleb  wished  to  know  how  Moses  was  getting  on,  and 
resolved  to  make  a  visit  to  Harvard  on  Class  Day.  It 
would  be  a  pleasure  to  wander  through  the  classic  shades, 
even  if  he  could  not  be  a  participant  in  the  enjoyments  of 
the  hour. 

He  went  in  the  horse-cars,  which  were  filled  with  young 
ladies,  talking  of  the  "spreads"  which  their  brothers,  cousins 
and  friends  were  to  lay,  and  of  the  pleasure  they  would 
have  in  the  dance  upon  the  green. 

"Harvard  Square!"  The  conductor  shouted  it,  and 
the  young  ladies  left  t!i2  car,  passed  through  the  gxte, 
and  walked  toward  the  colleges.  Caleb  followed  them, 
and  stood  upon  enchanted  ground.  He  beheld  the  time- 
honored  buildings  of  a  by-gone  century,  and  the  walls  of 
the  new  Museum,  with  its  treasures  gathered  from  every 
corner  cf  the  globe,  the  Library,  with  the  lore  of  ages 
\viihin  its  walls,  the  new  halls,  —  the  homes  of  the  students 
during  their  college  life. 

How  thrilling  to  feel,  as  it  were,  in  the  passing  breeze, 
all  that  time  had  preserved  of  the  bliss  of  the  ages!  to 
hear  in  the  whispering  winds  the  melodious  numbers  once 
heard  in  the  olive  groves  of  Attica  ! 

But  ghosts  come  to  our  feasts,  and  pleasure,  it  is  said,  is 


220  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

never  separate  from  pain.  A  pang  shot  through  him  as 
he  remembered  the  past.  Never  till  that  moment  had  he 
comprehended  how  much  had  been  swept  away  when  his 
father  went  down  amid  the  crashing  timbers  into  the 
whirling  waters.  Never  till  that  moment  had  he  seen,  as 
in  a  lightning  flash,  the  past  with  its  glories,  the  future 
with  all  its  possibilities,  or  comprehended  how  at  centres 
of  learning  men  sit  down  to  banquets  prepared  for  them 
by  the  great  ones  of  all  ages.  True,  he  could  read  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  in  -his  own  room;  but  it  was  like 
nibbling  bread  and  cheese  in  a  corner  by  himself,  instead 
of  sitting  at  the  festive  board. 

The  scene  was  fascinating.  Students,  smartly  dressed, 
carrying  ivory-headed  canes,  were  moving  here  and  there 
across  the  grounds.  Those  who  had  no  part  to  perform 
in  the  exercises  of  the  clay  were  sitting  in  their  rooms, 
smoking  their  meerschaums,  with  their  feet  on  the  window- 
sills,  or  higher  than  their  heads,  as  if  to  let  the  knowledge 
which  had  filtered  through  their  brains  down  into  their 
boots  run  back  again  !  Young  ladies  with  pink  and  blue 
ribbons  fluttering  in  the  breeze  stood  in  groups  here  and 
there  upon  the  lawn,  chatting  with  their  brothers  and 
acquaintances.  Negroes  wearing  white  aprons,  with 
hampers  and  baskets  redolent  with  roast  chicken  and  cran 
berry  sauce,  rum  punch  and  ice  cream,  were  hurrying  into 
the  halls.  There  was  all  the  bustle  and  excitement  cf 
Class  Day;  interesting  to  one  who  never  had  seen  it  and 
to  be  enjoyed  by  those  who  took  part  in  it ;  —  a  clay  ever 
to  be  remembered  by  those  who  were  (o  win  the  honors. 

Caleb  strolled  here  and  there,  enraptured  by  the  .--ccnc, 
entranced  by  the  music  and  the  joyfulnessof  all  around  him. 
While  leisurely  sauntering,  he  discovered  Moses  amid  the 
throng,  and  was  surprised  to  see  the  change  that  had  taken 


Calling  upon  an  Old  Acquaintance.  221 

place  in  form  and  feature.  He  was  tall.  lie  was  dignified 
in  deportment.  The  red  hair  of  his  childhood  had  changed 
to  auburn.  There  was  a  freshness  in  his  complexion, 
heightened  by  the  bright  color  upon  his  cheeks.  He  had 
all  of  the  suavity  and  graciousness  of  his  father  in  his  inter 
course  with  those  around  him.  He  was  the  centre  of  an 
animated  group  of  young  ladies.  Caleb  was  not  near 
enough  to  hear  what  he  was  saying,  but  concluded  that 
there  must  have  been  some  point  to  it,  for  the  young  ladies 
laughed  immoderately.  The  group  dispersed,  and  Moses, 
accompanied  by  a  fellow  student,  came  along  the  path. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Moses  ?  "  said  Caleb  to  his  old  school 
mate.  Moses  stopped  a  moment  to  see  who  had  spoken, 
but  did  not  take  the  proffered  hand.  He  saw  Caleb  and 
yet  did  not  see  him.  He  knew  he  was  there,  but  looked 
through  him  into  space.  There  was  no  bow  or  smile  ;  no 
sign  of  recognition.  He  looked,  and  passed  on  as  if 
he  had  seen  nothing.  The  young  gentlemen  and  ladies 
strolling  on  the  lawn  saw  all  that  had  transpired, — saw 
the  erect  form  of  Mr.  Meek,  who  was  going  down  the  path, 
saw  the  young  man  who  w.is  not  a  collegian  staring  with 
fixed  eyes,  with  surprise  and  wonder  in  every  line  of  his 
face,  the  petrified  statue  of  amazement. 

Those  who  had  seen  it,  laughed  aloud  and  rehearsed  it 
to  their  friends. 

"Who  was  that  fellow?"  The  question  was  asked  by 
the  young  man  accompanying  Moses. 

"  An  impudent  puppy  who  used  to  go  to  school  with  me 
when  we  were  boys.  If  he  had  spoken  to  me  anywhere 
else,  or  on  any  other  occasion,  I  would  have  knocked  him 
down  ;  but  I  didn't  want  to  get  up  a  row  on  Class  Day, 
you  know,"  was  the  reply  that  reached  Caleb's  ears. 

"  Of  course  not;  but  then  you  would  have  given  him  a 
good  lesson,"  said  the  other. 


223 


Krinkk. 


Caleb  passed  out  of  the  gate,  shook  the  dust  off  his  feet, 

and  went  up  the  street,  reached  the  elm  under  which 
Washington  drew  his  sword,  and  stood  beneath  it  to  cool 
the  fever  within  him. 

Were  those  the  manners  taught  in  College  ?  It  was 
Class  Day,  a  jubilee  day.  and  did  not  everybody  in  Col 
lege  expect  to  be  congratulated  by  their  friends?  Perhaps 
if  he  had  said,  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Meek?"  it  would  have 
been  a  little  more  respectful,  but  aside  from  that,  lie  could 
not  see  why  Moses  should  have  cut  his  acquaintance. 

"So  be  it.  my  old  friend.  The  world  is  wide;  there  is 
room  for  both  of  us.  I  will  not  quarrel  with  you."  A 
philosophy  learned  not  at  Harvard,  but  in  the  school  of  ad 
versity,  enabled  him  to  say  it.  All  honor  to  him,  who,  under 
great  provocation,  can  say  it  calmly  as  Caleb  said  it, 
without  a  curse  attached  to  the  words,  and  who  can  banish 
resentment  from  his  heart. 

Caleb  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  fore-head,  stepped 
into  a  passing  car,  and  went  back  to  his  solitary  studies  in 
his  little  room,  while  Moses  led  his  fair  partners,  one  by 
one,  in  the  dance  upon  the  green. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
EERTHA'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE  IN  SOCIETY. 

MRS.  CODINGTONwas  giving  a  party,  the  grandest 
of  the  season,  and  there  was  a  steady  rumbling  of 
carriage  wheels  over  the  pavements  of  Beacon  street.  It 
was  a  great  party,  a  very  select  party.  Distinguished  men 
were  among  her  guests.  Judge  Mandamus,  General  Pom 
pon,  Rev.  Mr.  Cassock,  and  Lord  Bummer,  who  had  just 
arrived  from  England,  oa  his  way  west  to  the  plains  of 
Dakota,  to  try  iiis  hand  in  shooting  buffaloes.  Mrs.  Cocl- 
ington  considered  herself  fortunate  in  hiving  this  member 
of  the  English  aristocracy  among  her  guests,  for  the  pres 
ence  of  Lord  Bummer  \vould  make  t'l.j  party  especially 
select. 

A  \vhite-haired  negro  wearing  a  white  vest,  a  white  neck 
tie,  white  kid  gloves,  and  a  black  dress-coat,  stood  on  the 
white  marble  lloor  of  the  vestibule  and  bowed  to  the  guests 
as  they  entered  the  Coclington  mansion.  Another  wln'te- 
hairecl  negro,  similarly  attired,  and  deeply  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  performing  his  part  with  becoming  dig 
nity  on  the  grand  occasion,  stood  at  the  top  cf  the  stairs 
'and  bowed  to  them. 

"The  genimen  will  please  turn  to  the  right  and  dc  ladies 
will  please  turn  to  cL  L-f,"  said  this  director  of  ceremonies. 

The  gentlemen,  thereupon,  passed  into  a  chamber,  de- 

223 


224  Caleb  Kr inkle, 

liverecl  their  coats  and  hats  to  another  negro,  then  smoothed 
their  hair,  or  brushed  it  up,  adjusted  their  coats,  lingered 
their  collars,  and  bowed  stiffly  to  their  neighbors  while 
putting  on  their  gloves. 

In  another  chamber  the  ladies  were  shaking  out  the 
folds  of  their  skirts,  adjusting  ribbons,  arranging  flowers 
in  their  hair,  turning  before  the  pier-glass  to  see  that  plait, 
fold,  ruffle  and  flounce,  tassel,  scarf  and  ribbon  were  as 
they  should  be.  • 

Bertha  Wayland  was  there.  It  was  to  be  an  eventful 
evening  in  her  life.  She  was  to  make  her  appearance  in 
society  ;  to  be  no  longer  a  girl,  but  a  maiden.  Up  to  this 
hour  she  had  been  only  a  chrysalis,  but  now  she  was  to 
take  wing  and  fly  out  into  the  sunshine  of  life,  to  flutter 
here  and  there  at  will  in  search  of  sweetness  and  pleasure. 

Her  school -days  at  Hilltown  were  over,  and  she  had 
passed  a  year  at  Veneering  Hall,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud 
son,  to  receive  the  polish  of  a  fashionable  education  in 
Miss  Posey's  institute.  Mr.  Wayland  was  no  longer  in  the 
land  of  the  living,  and  Aunt  Jar.et  had  had  her  own  way 
in  the  finishing  of  Bertha's  education.  On  this  eventful 
evening,  Bertha  stood  before  the  pier-glass,  —  an  angel  in  a 
cloud  of  white.  Her  dark  hair  lay  in  wavy  folds  above  a 
clear,  transparent  brow.  A  bloom  like  that  of  the  blush- 
rose  rested  on  her  cheeks,  and  there  was  such  a  blending 
of  love,  purity  and  goodness,  and  all  heaven-born  attributes, 
in  her  sweet,  fair  face,  that  had  she  lived  in  other  days,  an 
old  master  of  art  might  have  chosen  her  as  his  ideal  of  a 
Madonna.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  the  expectation  of 
the  hour.  The  orbs  which  at  other  times  seemed  to  be 
looking  far  away,  as  if  in  search  of  something  in  the  dim 
and  shadowy  distance,  on  this  night  were  looking  at  things 
near  at  hand,  as  if  after  the  long  search  she  had  found  that 
which  she  had  been  so  earnestly  seeking. 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  in  Society.  225 

With  a  fluttering  heart  and  a  light  and  airy  step,  a 
movement  so  graceful  that  those  who  were  standing  below 
might  have  looked  up  to  see  whether  it  were  a  mortal  or  a 
seraph  from  the  celestial  regions,  Bertha,  following  Aunt 
Janet,  descended  the  stairs.  A  pale-faced  young  man, 
with  a  light  moustache,  son  of  the  hostess,  with  a  rose  i1; 
the  lapel  of  his  coat,  gave  her  his  arm  and  presented  h •..-,- 
to  his  father  and  mother.  There  was  a  confused  hum  of 
voices  around  her,  but  amid  the  general  buzz  she  heard 
Mrs.  Codington  say, — 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  I  consider  it  quite  an 
honor  to  have  you  come  out  on  this  occasion."  Then  she 
said  in  a  whisper,  "  How  lovely  you  are !  You  are  an 
angel." 

So  Bertha  at  last  was  in  society,  and  no  longer  a  chrysa 
lis,  but  a  butterfly.  She  passed  on  with  Aunt  Janet,  and 
mingled  with  other  seraphs,  dressed  in  red,  white  and  blue 
illusion.  She  knew  that  they  were  looking  at  her,  and  not 
merely  looking,  but  staring,  at  her  dress  and  the 
arrangement  of  her  hair.  The  mothers  of  these  celestial 
spirits  were  looking  at  her  through  their  golden-bowed 
eye-glasses.  Little  driblets  of  speech  reached  Bertha's 
ears  :  — 

"  Makes  a  spread."  "  Probably  expects  to  carry  all  be 
fore  her."  "  Her  face  is  as  red  as  a  poppy." 

She  knew  that  they  were  picking  her  to  pieces,  and  she 
would  gladly  have  shrunk  away  into  some  corner  where  she 
might  be  an  observer  without  being  seen  ;  but  she  was  in 
society,  and  must  bear  whatever  criticism  society  might 
have  to  offer.  As  an  offset  to  being  torn  to  tatters,  she 
heard  others  say, — 

"  Ho\v  lovely  !"  "  Isn't  she  beautiful  ?"  "  She  will  be 
a  queers  in  .society." 


226  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Aunt  Janet  discovered  an  old  friend,  Judge  Mandamus, 
a  portly  man  with  a  smooth  face  and  gray  hairs,  —  a  dig 
nified  person,  with  an  old-fashioned  gold  seal  dangling 
from  his  watch  chain. 

"  My  clear,  the  Judge  wishes  to  be  presented  to  you  on 
this  night  so  eventful  in  your  life,"  said  Aunt  Janet,  intro 
ducing  the  Judge 

"  I  consider  it  a  privilege  and  an  honor  to  be  the  first  to 
take  you  by  the  hand  on  the  occasion  of  your  appearance 
in  society.  Your  father  was  my  chum  at  the  academy." 

"  At  Hilltown  ?  "  Bertha  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  Oh,  how  delightful  !  I  attended  school  there,"  said 
Bertha  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Did  you  ?  Indeed!  Then  you  are  entitled  to  my 
special  care  and  attention.  I  must  take  you  under  my 
wing  to-night  and  try  to  be  agreeable,  instead  of  a  cross 
old  curmudgeon.  Let  us  get  into  the  library,  where  there 
is  more  room/'  he  said,  edging  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
Bertha  clinging  to  his  arm  with  one  hand  and  managing 
her  trail  with  the  other.  The  Judge  unwittingly  put  his 
foot  into  a  white  lace  fog.  There  was  a  starting  of  the 
stitches  that  bound  it  to  the  form  of  the  celestial  being 
who  claimed  it  as  her  own. 

"  I  beg  youi  pardon,"  said  he,  bowing. 

"  Oh,  it  is  of  no  consequence,"  was  the  reply.  But  as  the 
Judge  passed  on,  these  words  came  to  his  ears,  "What  an  old 
brute  !  " 

From  the  recess  of  the  bay-window  in  the  library,  where 
orange  blossoms,  passion-flowers,  calla- lilies,  heliotropes  and 
exotics  from  the  green-house  were  exhaling  their  fragrance, 
Bertha  gazed  upon  the  brilliant  throng.  It  was  a  fascinating 
spectacle.  The  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  L'stoons  of  flowers,.. 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  in  Society.  227 

the  rich  costumes,  the  flashing  diamonds,  the  animated  faces, 
the  bowing  and  courtesying,  together  with  the  confused  hum 
of  voices,  and  the  swelling  strains  of  the  Orchestra  stationed 
in  an  ante-room,  all  combined,  thrilled  herjvith  an  inexpres 
sible  pleasure. 

Hon.  Mr.  Puttyman,  Member  of  Congress,  approached  the 
Judge. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  Judge,  how  do  you  do?  " 

"  Quite  \vell,  I  thank  you.  I  hope  you  are  well.  Allow 
me  to  present  you  to  Miss  Wayland,"  said  the  Judge. 

Hon.  Mr.  Puttyman  had  accomplished  his  object.  He 
had  sought  out  the  Judge,  not  for  the  purpose  of  talking 
with  him,  but  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  lovely  crea 
ture  by  his  side. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  the  Member  of  Congress  re 
marked. 

"  Very  beautiful,  Bertha  replied. 

"  Mrs.  Codington  has  a  large  party." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  much  larger." 

"  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Miss 
Wayland.  Of  course  you  will  visit  Washington  by  and  by, 
and  I  shall  esteem  it  a  privilege  to  present  you  to  the  Presi 
dent." 

Mr.  Puttyman  was  intending  to  say  something  more,  but 
General  Pompon  had  joined  the  Judge,  and  having  shaken 
hands  with  him,  begged  the  honor  of  an  introduction  to 
Miss  Wayland.  He  also  remarked  that  it  was  a  beautiful 
evening,  and  that  it  was  the  largest  and  most  brilliant  party  of 
the  season,  and  was  trying  to  think  of  some  pretty  sentiment, 
when  his  thoughts  were  put  to  flight  by  Rev.  Mr.  Cassock, 
.vho  aL>u  b  -gged  ot"  the  Judge  the  honor  of  an  introduction 
to  Miss  Wayland.  Rev.  Mr.  Cassock  was  a  young  man  with 
a  pale  face,  whose  chestnut  hair,  parted  in  the  middle,  lay  in 


228  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

luxuriant  curls  about  his  ears.  Being  near-sighted,  he  wore 
golden-bowed  spectacles,  which,  with  the  paleness  of  his 
countenance  and  the  manner  of  wearing  his  hair,  gave  him 
an  effeminate  appearance. 

"  It  is  a  delightful  evening,  Miss  Wayland." 

"Very." 

"  Mrs.  Codington  has  a  very  large  gathering  and  a  brilliant 
company."  The  reverend  gentleman  was  going  on  to  say 
something  more,  and  General  Pompon  and  Mr.  Puttyman 
were  waiting  to  put  in  a  word,  but  could  not  find  an  oppor 
tunity,  for  Aunt  Janet  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Lord 
Bummer,  and  came  up  at  the  moment  to  introduce  him. 

My  Lord  Bummer  was  a  gentleman  in  the  prime  of  life, 
with  a  florid  countenance,  a  moustache,  sandy  hair,  and  a 
cold  gray  eye.  Aunt  Janet  had  sought  an  introduction  to 
my  lord.  She  had  ascertained  that  he  was  unmarried.  She 
thought  of  the  Porgie  genealogical  tree  with  old  Sir  Philip 
as  its  tap  root.  Perhaps  something  of  consequence  might 
happen  to  the  Porgie  family  from  this  accidental  meeting 
with  Lord  Bummer.  She  was  confident  that  my  lord  could 
not  find  among  the  aristocracy  of  England  a  lady  more 
beautiful  than  Bertha. 

"Miss  Wayland,  Lord  Bummer  does  you  the  honor  of 
wishing  for  an  introduction,"  said  Aunt  Janet,  indulging  in  a 
little  fiction. 

His  lordship  bowed,  and  Bertha  acknowledged  the  saluta 
tion. 

"  I  feel  myself  greatly  honored  in  making  the  haquaint- 
ance  of  such  a  lovely  being,"  he  said,  bowing  toward  Bertha 
and  towards  Aunt  Janet  also,  as  if  to  indicate  that  the  com 
pliment  was  intended  for  both.  "  I  'ave  been,"  he  continued, 
"very  much  himprcssed  with  the  beauty  of  the  ladies  of 
Hamerica,  it  is  so  hangelic." 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  in  Society.  229 

"You  flatter  us,  I  am  sure.  We  may  be  good  looking, 
but  \ve  are  not  angelic,"  Aunt  Janet  replied,  pleased  by  his 

lordship's  fine  speech.     "  I  dare  say,"  she  added,  "  that  our 

1 

best  type  of  beauty  in  this  country  mustPbe  much  below 
that  of  the  noble  families  of  old  England." 

"Please  hallow  me  to  differ  from  you,  my  dear  madam. 
Even  the  daughters  of  the  hearl  of  'Astings,  who  is  second 
cousin  by  marriage  to  my  mother,  are  not  more  beautiful 
than  some  of  the  lovely  beings  I  'ave  seen  since  my  harrival 
in  this  country.  I  do  not  think  that  we  should  'ave  to  go 
far  to  find  one  whose  beauty  would  be  the  theme  of  praise 
at  Buckingham  or  Wind.sor,"  said  his  lordship,  with  a  slight 
inclination  of  his  head  toward  Bertha. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  added,  "  that  there  will  be  some  dancing 
during  the  hevening ;  shall  I  'ave  the  'onor  of  your  'and  in 
the  first  dance,  Miss  Way  land  ?  " 

The  request  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected,  that  Bertha, 
who  had  hardly  looked  into  Lord  Bummer's  face,  knew  not 
what  to  reply. 

"  Miss  Wayland  will  be  delighted  to  accept  such  an  honor, 
I  am  sure.  Will  you  not,  my  dear?"  said  Aunt  Janet. 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure,"  was  Bertha's  reply.  Her  heart 
was  in  a  flutter.  To  dance  with  a  lord  !  How  could  she 
ever  get  through  with  it  in  the  presence  of  all  the  assembly  ! 

"Thank  you,"  said  his  lordship ;  and  he  turned  away  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  other  young  ladies  who  were  pre 
sented  by  their  mammas. 

The  young  gentlemen  of  the  party,  like  small  fish  in  the 
wake  of  great  ones,  through  Aunt  Janet,  or  Mrs.  Codington, 
or  Mr.  Frederic  Augustus  Codington,  —  Miss  Wayland's  re 
mote  relation,  —  all  paid  their  respects  to  Bertha.  Mr.  Fred 
eric  Augustus  was  a  senior  at  Harvard,  a  chum  of  Mr.  Moses 
Meek,  jr.,  who  also  was  a  guest  on  this  occasion.  Mr.  Meek 


230  Caleb  Krinkle, 

made  his  way  through  the  throng,  carefully  picking  his  steps 
amid  the  trails  that  lay  in  wavy  folds  on  the  floor,  bowing  to 
the  fair  owners  as  if  graciously  saying  "  Pardon  me,"  and  so 
approached  Bertl(fe. 

"What  an  unexpected  pleasure  is  this  !"  Moses  exclaimed. 

"Why,  Mr.  Meek,  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,"  said 
Bertha. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  seeing  you  here,"   Moses  replied. 

"Our  meeting  is  equally  a  surprise  to  me,  yet  if  I  had 
thought  a  moment  I  might  have  supposed  you  would  be 
here,  knowing  that  you  were  a  classmate  with  Mr.  Frederic 
at  Cambridge,"  Bertha  remarked. 

"  Time  in  his  flight  has  bestowed  upon  you  much  more 
than  he  has  taken  away,"  said  Moses,  feeling  that  a  little  sen 
timent  would  be  appropriate  on  the  occasion. 

"Time  can  never  make  amends  for  taking  away  my  father," 
said  Bertha  sadly. 

"But  it  has  given  you  health,  youth,  beauty  and  a  bright 
future.  I  bow  before  the  queen  of  the  hour,"  said  Moses, 
smiling  and  bowing  at  the  same  moment. 

O  O 

"  Oh,  please  don't.     I  do  not  like  flattery,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  what  all  the  young  ladies  say,  but  I  fancy  they 
don't  mean  it." 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  Bertha  replied,  with  a  decision 
which  convinced  Moses  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  give  ut 
terance  to  all  the  fine  speeches  he  had  in  mind. 

"  Shall  I  have  the  honor  of  your  hand  in  one  of  the  dances 
after  supper?  " 

"  Of  course  I  cannot  refuse  the  request  of  my  old  school 
mate,"  said  Bertha,  as  she  entered  his  name  on  her  list. 

"  I  hope  you  are  enjoying  yourself  on  this  occasion,"^tr. 
Meek  remarked. 

"Yes, — but,   after  all,  I  don't  think  that  it  is  so  enjoyable 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  in  Society.  231 

as  that  Thanksgiving  party  at  Millbrook  which  we  attended, 
you  remember.  There  we  were  free,  here  we  are  constrained." 

Miss  Waylancl  was  thinking  of  the  remarks  she  had 
heard  during  the  evening. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  continued,  "  how  are  our  old  friends 
at  Millbrook,  —  that  sweet  girl,  Miss  Fair,  and  Mr.  Krin- 
kle  ?  " 

"Mr.  Krinkle  is  not  there  ;  he  is  in  this  city." 

"  In  Boston  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  and  rather  low  down  in  the  world:  he  is  in  an 
eating-saloon.'' 

"  You  surprise  me.  I  thought  him  an  estimable  young 
man,  with  a  bright  future  before  him,"  said  Bertha,  a  shade 
of  sadness  settling  on  her  face. 

"  There  came  a  sudden  change  in  his  fortunes  ;  his 
father  was  drowned  during  a  great  freshet,  while  attempt 
ing  to  save  a  little  girl ;  all  of  his  property  was  swept 
away,  and  Caleb  was  forced,  of  course,  to  step  down  from 
the  position  he  had  occupied.  He  is  plodding  along  now 
in  an  eating-room,  and  he  also  carries  out  newspapers  for  a 
living.  But  you  will  be  interested  to  hear  that  Linda 
is  bringing  up  the  little  girl.  The  child's  parents  were 
drowned." 

"  Bringing  up  the  little  girl  !  What  a  good  creature  she 
is !  Do  you  know  that  I  fell  in  love  with  her  the  moment 
I  saw  her  ?  And  Mr.  Krinkle  tending  an  eating-saloon  ? 
How  strange  !  " 

"  Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,  it  is  said." 

"  1  am  really  sorry  for  him,"  said  Miss  Wayland. 

Nothing  had  been  left  undone  by  Mrs.  Codington  to 
make  the  party  the  grandest  of  the  season.  To  enlarge 
the  premises,  a  pavilion  had  been  erected  in  the  back 


J3«  Caleb  Krinkle. 

yard.  It  was  hung  with  flags  and  banners,  and  streamers 
were  gathered  in  graceful  folds  beneath  the  canvas  roof. 
Palms,  palmettoes,  acacias,  and  orange  trees  laden  with 
golden  fruit,  were  brought  from  the  conservatories,  and 
exotics  from  the  green-houses,  to  lend  their  beauty  and 
fragrance  to  the  grand  occasion.  Chinese  lanterns  shim 
mered  amid  the  mimic  trees  and  shrubs.  The  cateret  had 
prepared  an  entertainment  for  five  hundred  guests.  Hav 
ing  had  long  experience,  he  knew  almost  to  a  certainty  how 
many  bushels  of  oysters  on  the  shell  would  be  needed  ;  how 
many  lemons  to  flavor  them  ;  how  many  lobsters  and  chick 
ens  must  be  chopped  up  for  salad  ;  how  many  beef 
tongues,  cold  roast  chickens,  gherkins  of  pickles  and 
olives;  how  many  pies,  cakes;  how  many  gallons  of  ice 
cream  and  rum  punch;  how  many  baskets  of  champagne; 
how  manv  bottles  of  hock,  claret  and  sherry,  and  how 
many  gallons  of  coffee.  In  order  that  nothing  might  be 
wanting,  the  caterer  had  added  a  little  more  than  the  live 
hundred  guests  could  possibly  consume.  Everybody  ate 
till  satisfied,  and  there  uas  something  for  the  most  fastidi 
ous  epicure.  The  chicken,  the  ices,  the  coffee,  the  sherry, 
hock,  claret  and  champagne  all  were  duly  appreciated 
and  praised. 

It  was  a  new  sensation  that  Miss  Wayland  experienced, 
when,  after  sapper,  she  went  whirling  around  the  room  with 
Lord  Bummer  in  the  dance  She  had  danced  before  in  a 
quiet  way,  but  now  she  was  in  society.  True,  Lord  Bum 
mer's  breath  was  rather  strong  of  champagne,  and  there 
was  a  musty  smell  to  his  whiskers,  as  if  the  smoke  of  his 
last  cigar  was  still  there.  She  did  not  quite  like  the  search 
ing  look  of  his  cold  gray  eyes  resting  on  her  necklace,  but 
he  was  a  lord,  and  she  kne\v  that  the  other  young  ladies 
were  envying  her  the  pleasure  of  the  moment. 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  in  Society.  233 

"What  a  charming  hoccasion  this  is !  "  said  his  lordship, 
escorting  his  partner  to  Aunt  Janet,  when  the  dance  was  fin 
ished.  "And  hallow  me  to  say,  Miss  Wayland,  that  I  never 
found  hamong  my  hacquaintances  a  more  charming  per 
son  than  yourself  to  dance  with." 

•'  You  flatter  me,"  Bertha  replied. 

"  Ho,  ncr,  Miss  Wayland  ;  I  mean  it." 

Bertha  picked  at  the  flowers  in  her  bouquet,  not  know 
ing  what  to  say,  seeing  that  the  flatterer  was  a  lord.  A 
rose  dropped  at  her  feet,  and  Lord  Bummer  picked  it  up. 

"  Hexcuse  me  if  I  do  not  restore  it  to  you.  I  shall 
wear  it  next  me  'art  in  remembrance  of  this  joyful  hocca 
sion.  May  I  hask  you  to  pin  it  on  my  coat  ?  " 

Had  it  been  Mr.  Moses  Meek,  or  even  Mr.  Frederic 
Augustus  Codington,  or  any  one  else,  she  would  have  re 
fused ;  but  how  could  she  refuse  Lord  Bummer,  especially 
when  Aunt  Janet,  who  saw  and  heard  the  request,  was  en 
couraging  her  by  significant  looks  to  comply  with  it.  She 
pinned  it  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat  and  received  his  thanks. 

The  next  dance  was  about  to  commence,  and  Mr.  Putty- 
man,  with  whom  she  had  an  engagement,  was  bowing  to 
her  and  offering  her  his  arm.  She  took  it,  and  the  honor 
able  gentleman  moved  away  with  dignity,  taking  no  notice 
of  my  lord. 

Miss  Wayland's  next  engagement  was  with  Moses 
Meek,  jr.  They  talked  of  by-gone  clays  at  Hilltown  and 
Millbrook. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Bertha,  "  that  the  maple-sugar 
party  and  that  Thanksgiving  evening  at  Millbrook  are  two 
of  the  brightest  pictures  in  my  memory?  That  slide  down 
the  hill  witli  your  old  playmate,  Mr.  Krinkle!  Oh,  it  was 
just  charming!  Whenever  I  think  of  it  I  seem  to  be  fly 
ing  through  the  air,  the  fresh  breeze  fanning  my  cheeks. 


234  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

And  that  evening  party  at  Daisy  Davenport's,  —  I  really 
enjoyed  more  there  than  I  have  here  this  evening,  although 
this  is  so  grand  an  affair.  And  then  that  tip-over  we  had 
on  our  way  home.  I  have  laughed  over  it  many  times." 

Moses  wished  that  Miss  Wayland  would  not  call  up 
such  a  ghost,  and  was  glad  to  hear  the  opening  strains  of 
a  waltz  from  the  orchestra.  The  ghost  was  forgotten, 
however,  as  he  went  whirling  round  the  room  with  her,  to 
Strauss'  air  of  the  '•  Blue  Danube." 

The  programme  of  dances  was  completed  ot  length,  and 
the  guests  took  their  departure.  Bertha  had  the  pleas 
ure  of  being  escorted  to  her  carriage  by  Lord  Bummer. 

The  clock  on  Park  street  church  was  striking  four 
when  she  laid  aside  her  ornaments  and  prepared  to  retire. 
The  excitement  of  the  evening  had  passed.  She  was  in 
society,  had  partaken  of  the  best  pleasure  that  society  had 
in  store  for  her.  It  was  pleasant  to  the  taste,  but,  after  all, 
her  longings  were  not  quite  satisfied. 

It  was  past  noon  when  she  awoke  with  an  aching  head 
and  a  sense  of  weariness.  Breakfast  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  was  tasteless.  The  morning  paper  contained  a 
notice  of  the  "  Fashionable  party  at  the  West  End,''  in 
which  the  belle  of  the  evening  was  spoken  of  as  "The  rich, 

beautiful  and  accomplished  Miss  B \V ,  who  came 

out  on  the  brilliant  occasion."  And  then  the  Jenkins  of 
the  hour  went  on  to  describe  her  dress,  her  ornaments,  her 
beauty,  grace  and  brilliancy,  and  congratulated  society 
upon  such  an  accession  to  its  ranks. 

If  it  was  pleasant  thus  to  be  noticed,  Bertha  could  not 
say  that  it  was  altogether  satisfying.  She  leaned  back  in 
her  luxuriant  arm-chair  and  gave  herself  up  to  dreaming. 
"  Is  life,  after  all,  like  the  apples  of  Sodom  ?  Is  pleasure 


Bertha's  First  Appearance  hi  Society.  235 

never  separate  from  disappointment?  Is  there  no  unadul 
terated  happiness,  —  no  gold  without  alloy  ?  " 

These  were  the  questions  that  came  to  her,  and  she 
waited  in  vain  for  an  answer. 

It  was  time  for  her  to  be  dressing  for  the  afternoon,  for 
Lord  Bummer  had  appointed  four  o'clock  as  the  hour  when 
he  would  do  himself  the  honor  of  calling  upon  her.  Be 
fore  starting  for  her  chamber,  Bertha  glanced  over  the 
newspaper,  and  her  eye  fell  upon  a  paragraph  which  ar 
rested  her  attention.  This  was  what  she  read  :  — 

"  The  police  have  had  information  for  some  time  past  that  one  of 
the  most  adroit  rogues  and  forgers  of  England  had  come  to  this  coun 
try  and  was  supposed  to  be  in  this  city.  They  were  fortunate  enough 
to  lay  their  hands  upon  him  this  morning  as  he  was  leaving  a  party 
at  the  West  End,  where  he  had  appeared  as  Lord  Bummer.  He  was 
arrested  for  counterfeiting,  and  is  now  safely  lodged  in  Charles  street 
jail." 

Bertha  threw  the  paper  from  her  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  crying  from  shame  and  vexation. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  child? "  asked  Aunt  Janet, 
coming  in  at  the  moment. 

"  Read  i»,"  said  Bertha,  pointing  to  the  paragraph. 

"The  wretch!"  Aunt  Janet  could  say  no  more,  but 
crumpled  the  pnper  in  her  brands,  and  went  to  her  room  to 
hide  her  mortification. 


.    CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LIISTDA'S    BRAIN    IN    A    WHIRL. 

r  j  ^HE  fire  was  out  in  the  forge,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
JL  rekindle  it.  The  cheerful  tink-tink-tink,  the  pleas 
ant  sound  heard  through  the  day  in  Millbrook,  would  be 
heard  no  more,  for  the  blacksmith  had  finished  his  work, 
and  was  at  rest  forever. 

Linda  was  in  the  bloom  of  maidenhood.  Her  cheeks 
were  fair,  and  there  was  the  flush  upon  them  that  comes 
from  perfect  health.  Her  face  was  so  sunny  that  it  seemed 
as  if  no  cloud  could  ever  settle  upon  it.  Though  regular 
her  features,  no  one  would  have  called  her  beautiful  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  the  term  ;  but  the  earnestness, 
sweetness  and  goodness  that  had  characterized  her  father's 
face,  were  her  own  distinguishing  features.  Now  that  her 
father  had  departed,  her  life  ^vas  wholly  devoted  to  Wini 
fred.  Linda  was  owner  of  the  cottage,  and  there  was  a 
small  amount  of  money  in  the  savings  bank,  but  more  than 
that,  she  had  inherited  an  earnest  purpose  and  a  resolute 
spirit. 

"  Come  and  live  with  me,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Dishaway. 
<:  You  are  alone  when  Dan  is  gone,  which  is  most  of  the 
time.  There  is  room  for  you  ;  there  is  a  stall  in  the  barn, 
where  Dan  can  keep  his  horse.  You  will  be  nearer  meeting 
on  Sunday,  and  it  will  be  better  all  round." 
236 


Linda's  Brain  in  a    Whirl.  237 

"  How  kind  it  is  in  you,  Little  Maid  !  It  is  not  every 
girl  that  would  want  a  woman  as  old  as  I  am  for  company, 
or  that  would  have  thought  of  getting  me  a  little  nearer  to 
meeting  on  Sunday,  but  it  is  just  like  you,  and  if  Dan 
thinks  it  best  we  will  come." 

Dan  thought  well  of  the  plan,  and  thanked  Linda  for  the 
invitation. 

"  We  will  do  what  we  can  to  make  it  pleasant  for  you," 
he  said. 

Linda  was  happy.  She  was  yarning  her  daily  bread  by 
making  vests  for  Mr.  Meek,  who  had  engaged  in  the  man 
ufacture  of  clothing.  She  had  health  and  strength  and  a 
troop  of  friends.  Was  there  not  one  true  heart  in  the 
world  that  was  ever  kept  in  remembrance  ?  Were  not  the 
words  ringing  in  her  ears, — sweetest  words  ever  spoken, — 
"  In  God's  good  time  I  will  come  to  you  "  ?  And  when  she 
read  the  letters  that  came  from  Caleb,  was  not  her  joy  in 
expressible?  Could  she  not  see  the  beautiful  manhood 
that  was  growing  up  within  him,  making  him  a  worthy  son 
of  a  noble  father? 

Notwithstanding  this,  she  found  some  troubles  besetting 
her  pathway.  Mr.  Felloe,  the  wagon-maker,  who  had  lost 
his  wife,  was  anxious  to  have  her  fill  the  aching  void  in  his 
heart,  which  he  felt  was  big -enough,  heart  and  void  alike, 
to  take  in  Linda  and  Winified  together.  He  would  be  a 
husband  to  Linda  and  a  father  to  little  Golden  Locks,  as 
everybody  called  Winifred. 

Mrs.  Gabberly  noticed  that  Mr.  Felloe  was  in  the  habit 
of  calling  at  the  cottage,  and  concluded  that  as  he  was  a 
widower  there  must  be  something  in  th~  wind,  and  so  went 
up  to  the  cottage  to  see  what  it  might  be. 

"According  to  all  accounts,  Linda,  you'll  be  changing 
your  name  pretty  soon,"  she  said,  opening  fire. 


238  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  Indeed !  "  Linda  replied,  divining  by  her  quick  percep 
tion  what  her  visitor  was  driving  at,  and  willing  to  lead  her 
on. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  my  part.  He  is  a  real  good 
man.  True,  you'll  be  a  second  wife,  but  then  some  men 
think  a  heap  more  of  the  second  one  than  they  do  of  the 
first.  And  so  he's  going  to  adopt  Winifred  !  Of  course 
he  would  have  to  if  he  took  you.  Well,  that  will  be  nice 
all  round." 

"  F  don't  quite  understand  you/'  said  Linda. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not!  It  is  no  use  for  you  to  deny 
that  he's  been  here  again  and  again.  I've  seen  him 
creeping  up  here  with  his  best  bib  and  tucker  on  after 
dark.  Ycu  can't  pull  the  wool  over  my  eyes.  I'm  too 
keen  for  that." 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?  " 

"That  is  just  like  you  girls,  — make  believe  you  don't 
know.  I  did  just  so  when  Mr.  Gabberly  was  beginning  to 
court  me,  —  it's  natural  ;  but  it  is  that  Felloe,"  and  Mrs. 
Gabberly  laughed  at  the  pun. 

"  Seeing  that  you  take  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  my 
affairs,  Mrs.  Gabberly,  J  will  say  that  I  am  very  well  con 
tented  with  my  lot  in  life,  and  do  not  propose  to  change  it 
at  present." 

"Don't  propose  to  change  it?  Don't  intend  to  accept 
Mr.  Felloe's  offer?  You  astonish  me!  He  is  the  best 
catch  in  town.'' 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  catch  him,  or  anybody  else." 

"Well,  I  declare  if  you  ain't  the  strangest  girl  that  lever 
saw!  I  don't  know  of  another  girl  that  wouldn't  jump  at 
such  a  chance.  He's  only  thiriy,  good-looking,  rich,  and 
they  say  there  never  was  a  kinder  husband." 

"  That  all   may   be.      I    am  perfectly  willing  that   any 


Linda's  Brain  in  a    Whirl.  239 

one  else  should  jump  at  the   chance.      I   don't   wish   to." 

"  Don't  wish  to  !     Why  not,  may  I  ask?  " 

"That  is  my  own  affair,  and  I  am  not  aware  that  it  con 
cerns  anybody  else  in  the  world,"  said  Linda  with  a 
decision  that  brought  a  flush  into  Mrs.  Gabberly's  cheek. 

"  Of  course  not,  if  you  don't  want  anybody  else  to  know  ; 
but  I  thought,  seeing  that  I  was  an  old  friend  and  you  had 
no  one  to  advise  with,  I  might  be  of  some  help  :  but  if  you 
don't  want  my  advice,  of  course  I  couldn't  urge  it  upon 
you.  Only  this  I  will  say,  that  you'd  better  think  twice 
about  it.  You  may  go  through  the  swamp  and  take  up 
with  a  crooked  stick  at  last,  but  if  you  do,  don't  say  that 
I'm  to  blame." 

"You  may  be  sure  I  shall  not,"  said  Linda  with  a  smile, 
as  her  visitor  took  her  departure.  Mrs.  Gabberly  being 
somewhat  piqued  at  her  discomfiture,  lost  no  time  in  mak 
ing  it  known  from  house  to  house,  much  to  the  disgust  of 
Mr.  Felloe,  that  Linda  had  given  him  the  mitten,  but  why 
she  had  done  it  no  mortal  on  earth  could  tell. 

There  was  one  other  matter  that  caused  Linda  trouble. 
Letters  came,  —  always  post-marked  "Boston,"  always 
without  a  signature,  —  enclosing  money  for  Winifred  ;  but 
the  money  had  been  put  into  the  savings  bank  in  trust  for 
Winifred.  Who  was  the  sender?  Why  did  he,  she,  or  they, 
send  ?  No  reason  was  ever  given  in  the  brief  letter  con 
taining  the  money,  other  than  that  the  sender  felt  a  warm 
personal  interest  in  Winifred.  But  would  not  the  "  some 
body  "  put  in  an  appearance  by  and  by,  and  assert  a  prior 
claim  to  her?  Linda  resolved  that  come  what  might  she 
never  would  give  her  up, —  unless  compelled  by  the  law. 
She  did  not  wonder  that  everybody  caressed  the  child,  nor 
that  they  called  her  pet  names,  nor  that  strangers,  when 
they  passed  her  on  the  street,  turned  to  look  at  her  sunny 


240  Caleb  Krinkle. 

face  and  golden  hair.  She  did  not  wonder  that  Winifred 
had  found  a  tender  place  in  the  heart  of  Mr.  Meek,  for 
who  could  resist  her  winning  ways  ?  So  captivating  was 
she  that  Mr.  Meek  frequently  came  to  the  cottage  to  see 
her. 

"Winifred  is  such  a  little  witch  that  I  can't  stay  away," 
he  said  to  Linda  one  day,  bowing  and  smiling,  and  taking 
a  seat  on  the  bench  beneath  the  porch. 

"  I  am  glad  she  is  a  good  girl,"  was  the  reply. 

"  She  could  .not  be  any  thing  else  under  your  care,  Miss 
Fair." 

"  I  want  to  bring  her  up  right.  She  may  be  very  easily 
turned  to  the  right  or  to  the  wrong." 

"  If  you  should  miss  her  some  day,  you  may  know  where 
to  look  for  her."  Though  he  said  it  in  jest,  there  was 
something  in  the  words,  or  in  the  tone,  or  in  the  smile  lurk 
ing  in  his  face,  that  made  it  seem  a.s  if  he  was  in  earnest. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  let  anybody  ever  steal  her  away," 
said  Linda. 

"  I  dare  say  that  if  anybody  steals  her  they  will  1m ve  to 
steal  you  at  the  same  time,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  the  sinister 
smile  still  lurking  in  his  face. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that:  no  one  would  take  tin 
trouble  of  carrying  me  away." 

"It  must  be  quite  a  tax  for  you  to  care  for  her." 

"Oh,  no,  not  in  the  least.     That  is   no  hardship  whict 
yields  us  the  highest  pleasure.     I  am  very  happy  when  I  am 
working  for  her." 

"  Still,  it  costs  you  something.  I  have  all  along  admired 
your  devotion  and  sacrifice,  and  have  ofl?n  reproached  my 
self  for  not  doing  something  for  her,  instead  of  letting  you 
bear  all  the  burden.  I  have  seen  her  so  often  on  her  way  to 
school,  and  she  has  so  much  sunshine  about  her,  that  I  feel 
as  if  I  almost  had  a  personal  interest  in  her," 


Linda's  Brain  in  a    Whirl.  241 

What  was  it  that  set  Linda's  brain  in  a  whirl  ?  Was  it  be 
cause  Mr.  Meek  had  used  the  very  words  she  had  read  in 
the  letters  that  had  come  to  her?  or  was  it  something  in  his 
manner  toward  her,  —  a  manner  not  altogether  agreeable? 

Linda  never,  even  in  childhood,  had  quite  liked  Mr. 
Meek,  and  the  repugnance  had  become  downright  aver 
sion.  He  was  courteous  and  kind,  but  his  politeness 
was  distasteful,  his  presence  repulsive.  Why  it  was  so,  she 
could  not  have  told,  with  all  the  help  of  Locke,  Whately, 
Hamilton,  or  any  other  writer  on  mental  or  moral  philosophy. 

"I  cannot  bear  him,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it,"  was  the 
only  answer  she  could  give  to  herself,  when  trying  to  make 
out  why  it  was  she  did  not  like  Mr.  Meek. 

"Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 
Thus  it  comes  about  that  some  such  favored  souls  can  dis 
cover  by  an  insight  wholly  unknown  to  reason  when  there  is 
evil  in  the  air.  As  the  horses  of  Bengal,  when  a  tiger  comes 
out  from  the  jungle  in  search  of  prey,  sniff  him  from  afar,  so 
they,  by  an  instinct  almost  divine,  know  when  they  are  in  the 
presence  of  one  who  would  devour  them.  Reason  cannot 
comprehend  a  sense  so  closely  allied  to  the  spirit  realm. 
As  the  fawn  is  startled  by  any  sound  that  falls  upon  its  ears, 
be  it  never  so  light,  so  was  Linda  by  the  growing  familiarity 
of  Mr.  Meek,  and  his  increasing  interest  in  Winifred. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    BRIGHT    STAR   OF    SOCIETY. 

NONE  of  the  guests  of  Congress  Hall,  Saratoga,  at 
tracted  more  attention  than  Miss  Bertha  Wayland  of 
Boston,  and  Aunt  Janet  Porgie.  There  were  mothers  accom 
panied  by  their  daughters,  but  men  who  passed  them  with 
out  recognition  on  the  grand  piazza,  lifted  their  hats  to  Aunt 
Janet  and  Miss  Wayland.  If  Bertha  visited  the  spring  in 
the  morning,  there  were  several  young  men,  and  men 
also  in  the  prime  of  life,  who  found  it  convenient  to  be 
walking  in  that  direction  at  the  same  time,  that  they  might 
aid  her  in  obtaining  a  glass  of  water.  If  Aunt  Janet  or 
dered  her  coachman  to  drive  out  to  the  lake,  the  gentle 
men  directed  their  coachmen  to  drive  in  the  same  direction. 
If  Miss  Wayland  wished  to  take  a  sail  on  the  lake,  there  were 
many  gentlemen  ready  to  render  her  every  possible  atten 
tion. 

Among  the  visitors  at  Saratoga  was  Moses  Meek,  jr.,  who 
had  finished  his  studies  and  graduated  at  Harvard,  attended 
the  Law  School,  and  was  in  business  for  himself;  but  having 
burned  a  great  deal  of  midnight  gas  in  Boston,  had  gone 
to  Saratoga  to  recruit  his  wasted  energies,  and  to  learn  a 
little  more  in  an  honorable  ex-member  of  Congress'  club 
house.  It  gave  him  pleasure  to  be  Miss  Wayland's  escort  in 
the  promenade,  to  dance  with  her,  to  render  her  and  Aunt 
Janet  all  possible  attention.  242 


T7ie  Bright  Star  of  Society.  243 

Sipping  Congress  water  in  the  morning ;  riding  somewhere 
for  their  health  in  the  forenoon  ;  dressing  for  dinner ;  taking 
a  seat  in  the  great  dining-hall,  listening  to  the  rattling  of 
crockery,  waiting  for  something  to  eat,  and  getting  very 
little  ;  sitting  on  the  piazza  and  listening  to  the  band  ;  taking 
another  ride  before  tea  ;  promenading  in  the  evening  ;  danc 
ing  till  midnight,  made  up  the  daily  round  at  Saratoga.  Miss 
Wayland  went  through  it  all,  day  after  day,  night  after  night, 
week  after  week,  during  the  season,  —  dancing  at  the  Union 
when  she  was  not  dancing  at  the  Congress. 

Aunt  Janet  was  holding  her  court  in  the  parlor  and  upon 
the  grand  piazza,  keeping  a  sharp  eye  upon  every  thing  going 
on  around  her,  —  upon  all  who  craved  the  honor  of  an  intro 
duction  to  Bertha,  finding  out  who  they  were,  and  what 
were  their  expectations. 

When  the  season  waned  at  Saratoga,  Aunt  Janet  and  Bertha 
proceeded  to  Newport,  and  as  business  was  dull  in  Boston, 
everybody  being  away  at  the  seashore  or  the  mountains,  Mr. 
Meek  likewise  resolved  to  visit  Newport.  Day  after  day,  at  the 
fashionable  hour,  they  bathed  in  the  surf.  On  "  fort  "  days 
they  rode  to  the  fcrt.  Night  after  night  they  danced  cotil 
lons  and  quadrilles  and  whirled  in  the  waltz.  They  strolled 
along  the  beach  when  the  moon  was  rising,  and  saw  its  silver 
light  upon  the  waves,  and  Mr.  Meek  recited  poetry  about  the 
sea  Daily  and  nightly,  as  at  Saratoga,  Bertha  went  through 
the  process  of  dressing  for  dinner,  and  dressing  again  for  the 
dance.  Daily  and  nightly  she  listened  to  the  sentimental 
soft  talk  in  the  promenade,  in  the  rests  between  the  dances, 
and  while  eating  scalloped  oysters,  cake  and  ice  cream,  at 
midnight,  till  pleasure  palled  and  sentiment  become  insipid. 
She  went  to  bed  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  to  dream 
of  strolling  by  the  sea,  of  bathing  in  the  surf,  of  being  taken 
out  by  the  undertow,  —  out  —  out  into  the  great  ocean,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  rescue  her. 


244  Caleb  Krinkle. 

When  the  season  was  over  at  Newport,  Bertha  and  Aunt 
Janet  returned  to  the  quiet  mansion  on  Beacon  street,  for  a 
few  weeks  of  rest  before  going  to  Washington,  where  Aunt 
Janet  had  decided  to  spend  the  winter. 

Who  could  tell  what  might  come  from  their  spending  the 
winter  in  Washington  ?  Aunt  Janet  was  planning  for  the  fu 
ture.  She  had  not  given  up  the  hope  of  seeing  an  alliance, 
through  Bertha,  between  the  Porgie  family  and  the  nobility 
of  the  old  world,  or  if  not  that,  with  some  distinguished 
family  in  America.  She  determined  that  Bertha  should  lie 
the  belle  of  Washington.  She  was  sure  that  her  beauty,  her 
brilliant  qualities,  and  the  sweetness  of  her  disposition,  to 
gether  with  her  wealth,  would  attract  a  crowd  of  admirers. 
She  was  well  enough  acquainted  with  the  world  to  know  that 
Bertha's  wealth  alone  would  bring  suitors  for  her  hand,  and 
that  wealth  and  beauty  together  would  make  her  a  bright 
star  in  society.  If  Bertha  were  queen  of  society,  she  herself 
would  be  queen  dowager. 

Aunt  Janet  prepared  for  the  campaign  by  taking  her 
own  dressmaker  with  her  to  Washington.  There  were  so 
many  trunks  that  the  baggage  man  at  the  depot  asked 
what  opera  company  was  on  its  travels.  She  set  up  her 
own  establishment,  with  her  own  hired  mansion,  so  that 
ambassadors  and  ministers  plenipotentiary  might  come 
to  her  court.  If  any  should  come  whom  she  did  not 
care  to  favor,  they  might  wait  as  Doctor  Johnson  waited  in 
the  ante-room  of  the  king's  palace,  for  an  audience  with 
majesty.  She  could  receive  as  well  as  Mrs.  Secretary  of 
State,  or  my  lady  of  the  British  embassy.  She  could  have 
a  little  world  exclusively  her  own.  Bertha  would  be  its 
sun,  and  lesser  luminaries  would  revolve  around  her,  and 
be  dazzled  by  her  beauty  and  warmed  by  her  brightness. 
Whenever  she  appeared,  men  would  bow  down  in  ado- 


The  Bright  Star  of  Society.  245 

ration,  like  the  sun  worshippers  of  the  Orient.  And  behind 
the  radiant  orb  she  herself  would  sit  prime  mover  of  all  the 
forces  of  her  little  universe. 

There  was  no.  more  stylish  turn-out  on  the  avenue  than 
that  in  which  Aunt  Janet  and  Miss  Waylartd  rode  to  the 
Capitol,  to  hear  the  speeches  in  the  Senate ;  or  in  calling  to 
K-uve  their  cards  at  the  mansion  of  the  Secretary  of  State, 
the  Secretary  of  War,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  at 
the  houses  of  the  regents  of  the  Smithsonian  Institute  :  for 
Aunt  Janet  delighted  in  the  society  of  scientific  and  literary 
men.  They  gave  to  select  society  such  a  tone  as  no  other 
class  of  men  could  give.  She  would  be  the  Madam  Reca- 
mier  of  the  American  Capital,  and  her  salon  the  resort  of 
Culture,  Nobility  and  T^reatness.  So  would  she  shine  in  the 
firmament. 

The  reflection  that  she  was  shining  with  a  borrowed  light 
did  not  detract  from  her  pleasure.  She  knew  that  it  was 
Bertha's  radiance,  her  wealth,  wit,  worth,  beauty  and  brillian 
cy  that  filled  her  parlors  on  her  reception  night ;  but  that 
did  not  diminish  her  complacency,  especially  when  she  read 
the  glowing  descriptions  of  her  entertainments  written  by  the 
special  correspondents  of  the  newspaper  press. 

''It  is  acknowledged  by  all  hands,"  wrote  one  correspond 
ent,  "  that  there  are  no  receptions  so  recherche  as  those  of 
Madam  Porgie  of  Boston,  who  is  spending  the  winter  in 
\Vashington.  She  receives  on  Wednesday.  The  street  is 
usually  blocked  with  carriages,  —  not  only  of  senators  and 
representatives  and  the  heads  of  departments,  but  of  the 
Diplomatic  Corps  as  well.  In  Madam  Porgie's  salon  you 
hear  the  chattering  of  French  as  constantly  as  if  in  Paris, 
and  of  German  as  if  you  were  at  Berlin." 

•'At  these  receptions  of  Madam  Porgie,  you  are  sure  to 
meet  some  one  who  has  distinguished  himself  in  literature, 


246  Caleb  Krinkle. 

science  or  art.  Madam  Porgie  receives  superbly ;  but  not 
the  least  attraction  of  these  receptions  is  her  ward,  Miss 
Wayland,  whose  incomparable  beauty,  ease,  grace  and  digni 
ty  have  made  her  the  sensation  of  the  season.  She  is  not 
merely  the  belle  of  Washington,  —  she  is  its  attraction  and 
glory !  Everybody  adores  her.  No  party  is  complete 
without  her." 

"The  belle  of  the  season  "  was  invited  to  dinner,  not  only 
by  the  senators  and  the  secretaries,  but  by  the  minister  of  all 
the  Russias,  by  my  lord,  the  minister  of  PI.  B.  M.  the  Queen 
of  England,  and  to  a  state  dinner  given  by  the  President. 

At  a  party  given  by  the  Secretary  of  War,  she  danced  with 
Lieut.  Spoony,  just  out  of  West  Point,  who  bowed  to  her 
with  West  Point  politeness,  whose  stq^s  were  of  the  West 
Point  regulation  precision,  who  walked  with  West  Point  dig 
nity,  unlike  any  other  dignity  in  heaven  or  on  earth  !  She 
danced  with  officers  of  the  navy,  with  members  of  Congress, 
and  with  attache  of  the  legations.  Senators  asked  for  the 
Jionor  of  promenading  with  Miss  Wayland,  in  all  their  sena 
torial  dignity,  —  vastly  superior  to  that  worn  by  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Representatives.  His  honor,  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  esteemed  it  a  new  honor  to  take  her  down  to  lunch, 
and  wore  upon  the  occasion  a  dignity  superior  to  that  put 
on  by  the  honorable  senators,  for  he  had  but  just  laid  aside 
his  black  gown  with  immaculate  judicial  dignity  in  all  its 
folds,  —  a  dignity  dry  as  dust,  but  incorruptible,  unapproach 
able,  unutterable.  The  S:nate,  the  House,  the  Bar,  the 
Bench,  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  the  Departments,  all  revolved 
around  the  bright  sun  of  the  Porgie  system.  If  the  House 
and  S:nate  were  to  be  likened  to  Mercury  and  Venus,  and 
the  Departments  and  the  Bar  to  those  outlying  worlds  that 
move  in  solemn  majesty  in  their  orbits,  between  them  were 
the  asteroids,  —  the  little  pinches  of  matter,  —  the  subordi- 


The  Bright  Star  of  Society.  24* 

nates  of  the  Treasury,  Interior,  War  and  Navy,  the  clerks, 
lieutenants,  captains,  controllers,  first  assistants  and  second 
assistants.  ji~s 

What  a  dreary  round  it  was  !  Receptions  at  home  ;  recep 
tions  at  the  White  House  ;  receptions  given  by  the  Secretary 
of  State,  the  S-cretary  of  War,  the  Secretary  of  the  Treas 
ury,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  by  the  Post-master  Gen 
eral,  by  the  Speaker  of  the  House,  by  the  senator  from 
Michigan,  by  the  senator  from  New  York,  the  senator  from 
Down  East,  from  Out  West ;  —  dinners,  parties,  hops,  balls  ; 
dancing  the  German  from  midnight  till  morning ;  dressing 
for  the  morning,  for  the  afternoon,  for  the  evening.  It 
was  a  round  that  brought  paleness  to  the  cheeks,  weakness 
to  the  body,  emptiness  to  the  mind,  hunger  to  the  soul. 
Lent  came,  and  society,  which  had  been  whirling  like  the 
dervises  of  the  East,  stopped  its  dancing,  took  a  pious 
breath,  ate  boiled  eggs  instead  of  beefsteak  at  breakfast, 
had  very  little  for  dinner  and  next  to  nothing  for  supper, 
hung  up  its  tulle  and  lace  and  low-necked  dresses,  put  oij 
sober  alpaca,  took  the  scarlet  blankets  off  from  its  poodles  ' 
and  replaced  them  with  those  of  ashen  hue,  hunted  the 
house  over  to  find  its  prayer-book,  wiped  the  dust  from  the 
covers,  went  to  church  with  the  corners  of  the  mouth  drawn 
down  in  a  pietistical  manner,  kneeled  on  a  consecrated  has 
sock,  read  its  forgotten  prayers, — resolutely  determined  to 
read  enough  in  the  forty  days  between  Ash  Wednesday  ami 
Easter  to  last  through  the  year  ! 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

DOCTORS    IN    COUNCIL. 

TJ^AIR  to  the  eye  and  sweet  to  the  taste  are  the  apples  of 
Sodom.  We  pluck,  eat  to  surfeiting,  and  turn  away 
in  disgust,  and  still  the  hunger  grows.  Though  we  eat  for 
ever  we  are  never  satisfied.  Surfeited  with  pleasure,  rejoic 
ing  that  she  was  once  more  in  her  own  home,  Bertha  Way- 
land  sat  by  the  cheerful  fire  in  the  parlor,  thinking  of  the 
past. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  am  at  home  once  more,"  she  said  to 
Aunt  Janet. 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  'hadn't  enjoyed  yourself." 

"  I  am  heartily  sick  and  tired  of  it  all,"  Bertha  replied. 

"Well,  you  are  a  strange  girl,  I  must  s;>y.  You  are  a 
Wayland  out  and  out,  and  not  a  Porgie  ai  all.  We  had 
every  thing  our  own  way  at  Saratoga,  at  Newport,  and  es 
pecially  at  Washington,  and  yet  you  are  not  satisfied." 

"  I  am  more  than  satisfied,  aunt,  I  am  satiated.  I  am 
tired  of  dancing  with  brainless  young  men,  and  weary  of 
compliments  from  men  who  ought  to  have  sense  enough 
not  to  utter  them.  I  am  nauseated  with  what  has  been  said 
to  me  by  men  old  enough  to  be  my  grandfather." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  an  energy  that  surprised 
Aunt  Janet. 

"Why,  my  dear,  what  is  the  matter?  You  seem  to  be- 
dreadfully  out  of  sorts,  and  now  'that  you  have  broached  the 
248 


Doctors  in  Council.  249 

subject,  I  want  to  say  that  I  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with  the 
way  you  treated  some  of  the  gentlemen  who  showed  you 
particular  attentions." 

"I  didn't  want  any  particular  attentions  shown  me." 

"Well,  perhaps  not;  but  there  are  not  many  girls  that 
have  had  such  a  chance  as  you  have  had  for  making  a -noble 
alliance  who  would  have  thrown  it  away  so  recklessly." 

Aunt  Janet  spoke  reproachfully.  She  was  greatly  dis 
pleased  with  Bertha  for  rejecting  the  attentions  of  Sir 
George  Crumpet,  attached  to  the  British  embassy,  who  had 
taken  her  down  to  dinner  at  the  English  ambassador's  grand 
banquet,  and  who  danced  with  her  afterwards ;  who  came  to 
Aunt  Janet's  receptions ;  who  called  and  left  his  card  and 
desired  a  private  interview,  asking  permission  to  declare  his 
honorable  intentions  to  Miss  Wayland. 

"  I  must  say,  Bertha,  that  I  am  greatly  displeased  with 
you.  You  know  that  I  have  had  my  heart  set  upon  uniting 
our  family  with  some  of  the  noble  families  of  the  old  world, 
and  when  I  had  every  thing  so  nicely  brought  about,  you 
upset  it  all.  It  was  the  greatest  disappointment  of  my  life." 
Aunt  Janet  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

'•  I  am  very  sorry,  aunty,  that  I  could  not  please  you  in 
the  matter,  but  I  did  not  like  him." 

"  Why  didn't  you  like  him?" 

"  Because  I  didn't." 

"  That  is  only  a  woman's  reason." 

"You  speak  as  if  a  woman's  reason  was  of  no  account." 

"But  you  might  have  liked  him.  I  don't  believe  there  is 
another  girl  in  all  Boston  who  would  have  thrown  away  such 
a  chance.'' 

"  I  dare  say  there  are  a  great  many  girls  who  would  have 
done  just  as  I  did  ;  at  least.  I  hope  there  are." 

"  But  he  belongs  to  the  nobility,  my  dear." 


250  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  I  am  very  glad  he  does,  but  I  didn't  want  to  marry  him 
just  on  that  account." 

"  But  I  did  so  want  to  see  an  alliance  between  our  family 
and  the  English  nobility,  that  I  can't  help  expressing  my 
disappointment." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  aunty,  but  I  have  no 
objection  whatever  to  your  making  an  alliance  with  Sir 
George  Crumpet.  I  think  that  there  cannot  be  much  differ 
ence  between  your  ages ;  but  you  must  really  excuse  me 
from  doing  it." 

It  was  a  sharp  thrust  at  Aunt  Janet,  who  wisely  concluded 
to  drop  the  subject;  for  she  had  discovered  that  contact  with 
the  world,  with  men  who  were  continually  saying  pretty 
things  to  Bertha,  had  roused  a  spirit  of  hostility  in  her.  She 
was  taking  up  arms  against  society.  Many  a  flatterer  had 
retired  from  ner  presence  feeling  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  could  not  please  you,  aunt,  but  I  could 
not ;  nor  have  I  been  able  to  please  myself.  I  doubt  if  I 
have  pleased  anybody,  nor  has  anybody  pleased  me.  I 
am  disappointed  with  what  I  have  seen  of  society  during  the 
last  year." 

T>Why,  my  dear,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  seem 
to  be  terribly  stirred  up."  -r 

"  Well,  I  am.  I  don't  deny  it.  We  went  to  Saratoga  last 
summer  to  enjoy  ourselves.  What  was  the  enjoyment? 
Driving,  dining,  dancing,  —  the  same  thing  over  and  over. 
varied  only  by  the  exchange  of  one  man  who  could  only  say- 
senseless  things  for  another  man  who  was  equally  senseless. 
We  girls  glowered  at  one  another ;  snubbed  one  another, 
and  did  every  thing  we  could  to  make  somebody  else  feel 
miserable  by  word,  look  or  action.  It  was  the  same  thing 
over  again  at  Newport.  Among  all  the  gentlemen  who 


Doctors  in  Council.  251 

walked  out  with  me  upon  the  rocks,  not  one  of  them  ever 
talked  sense,  but  always  nonsense,  —  about  Cupid  and  his 
darts,  and  love  and  his  victims.  They  said  I  was  beautiful, 
that  I  slew  them  with  my  eyes,  captivated  them  with  my 
voice,  and  was  cruel-hearted.  If  we  went  out  for  a  picnic, 
none  of  them  ever  could  interpret  to  me  the  voices  in  the 
air,  but  must  all  sit  at  my  feet,  and  say  that  my  eyes  were 
like  the  daisies,  my  lips  like  cherries,  my  cheeks  like  the 
bloom  of  a  peach,  my  voice  like  that  of  the  nightingale  ! 
I  thought  that  I  should  find  wisdom  in  Washington,  but 
there  it  was  the.  same  thing.  At  receptions  we  smiled  and 
simpered,  looked  at  each  other's  dresses,  talked  of  the 
weather,  asked  if  we  had  heard  the  great  senator's  speech, 
the  other  great  senator's  reply ;  it  was  the  same  at  dinner ; 
the  same  everywhere  and  always.  I  have  seen  and  heard 
a  great  deal,  but  I  have  learned  nothing,  except  that  what 
we  call  society  is  a  sham." 

Aunt  Janet  had  always  looked  upon  Bertha  as  a  very  pe 
culiar  girl,  unlike  anybody  else.  She  knew  that  beneath 
those  far-seeing  eyes  there  was  a  soul  with  an  earnest  pur 
pose  ;  but  she  had  not  expected  to  hear  her  utter  such  sen 
timents. 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  dear,  that  you  are  so  disappointed  and 
so  put  out  about  every  thing.  I  am  sure  I  have  tried  to 
do  what  I  could  for  your  happiness  and  welfare,"  Aunt  Ja 
net  replied  sorrowfully. 

"  I  know  you  have,  aunt,  but  the  happiness  hasn't  come. 
I  dare  say  it  is  my  fault,  or  because  I  am  made  as  I  am. 
I  am  disgusted  with  myself  as  well  as  with  everybody  else. 
It  is  a  relief  to  be  at  home  in  the  old  house  once  more. 
I  want  to  rest  and  think.  I  wish  that  I  had  somebody  to 
help  me,  but  I've  been  in  such  a  whirl  that  I  cannot  put 
two  things  together.  1  am  sorry  that  I  ever  went  to  Mad- 


252  Caleb  Krinkle. 

am  Posey's  school,  for  there  we  were  not  taught  to  put 
anything  together,  —  to  think  two  consecutive  thoughts. 
My  mind  is  as  hollow  as  an  empty  shell.  We  had  only 
varnish  put  on.  I  don't  know  any  thing.  I  can't  do  any 
thing  ;  there  is  not  any  thing  for  me  to  do.  i  aim  at  noth 
ing.  1  am  as  useless  as  one  of  the  dead  Pharaohs  in 
their  tombs.  I  expected  gold  in  society,  and  found  brass. 
I  hoped  for  richness,  and  found  poverty;  I  went  to  obtain 
fulness,  and  came  back  empty." 

"  I  ani  sorry,  Bertha,  that  you  are  so  much  disturbed.  It 
is  only  because  you  are  a  little  tired.  I  think  that  you  had 
better  go  out  and  take  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  It  will  revive 
you." 

"Thank  you,  aunt.     I  think  I  will." 

A  few  minutes  later  Bertha  was  strolling  along  the  Bea 
con  street  mall. 

It  was  a  spring  morning.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
and  the  trees  upon  the  Common  were  beginning  to  put 
forth  their  leaves.  The  bluebirds  and  robins,  which  had 
been  south  during  the  winter,  imitating  the  example  of  Aunt 
Janet  and  Bertha,  had  returned  to  their  old  haunts.  The 
birds  were  acquainted  with  Bertha,  for  they  had  carolled 
to  her  through  the  by-gone  summers  from  the  elms  in  front 
of  her  house.  They  had  seen  her  tripping  down  the  mall 
on  the  bright  mornings,  and,  like  the  Troubadours  of  old, 
had  improvised  a  song  in  praise  of  her  beauty,  and  now 
were  back  again  to  sing  to  her  as  in  other  days. 

"  I  wish  that  I  were  a  bird  ;  then  would  I  fly  away  and 
be  at  rest,"  said  Bertha,  recalling  the  words  of  a  song.  The 
ennui  was  upon  her  and  she  could  not  shake  it  off.  She 
was  weary  of  life. 

"The  birds  are  happy  and  I  wish  I  could  be,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  They  are  happy  because  they  have  some- 


Doctors  in  Council.  253 

thing  to  do,  —  to  get  their  daily  bread,  to  build  their  nests. 
I  wonder  if  it  would  not  be  better  for  me  if  I  had  to  earn 
my  living." 

Without  knowing  it  she  had  hit  a  very  important  nail  on 
the  head. 

"  If  I  only  had  something  to  do,  some  worthy  end  to  live 
for,  I  should  be  happier.  I  wonder  if  I  ever  shall  shake 
off  this  horror/' 

She  strolled  along  the  paths,  listening  to  the  birds,  but 
her  mind  was  wandering  in  dreamland,  —  asking  questions 
and  getting  no  answer.  Then  she  went  into  the  art  stores  on 
Tremont  street  and  looked  at  the  pictures,  but  having  seen 
them  many  times,  they  had  lost  their  power  to  charm  her. 
She  made  her  way  through  the  jostling  crowd  of  women, 
with  packages  cf  dry  good.-;  in  their  hands  which  they  had 
purchased  on  Winter  street.  Then  she  turned  into  Wash 
ington  street,  from  thence  into  a  side  street,  wandering 
without  purpose,  and  for  the  moment  was  but  a  straw  or 
bubble  in  the  great  stream  of  human  life  eddying  and 
surging  round  her. 

She  came  to  an  unfinished  building.  The  walls  were  up 
to  the  fourth  story.  There  were  piles  of  brick,  stone  and 
lumber  in  the  street.  There  was  a  staging  over  the  side 
walk.  Men  were  tugging  at  the  windlass  of  a  derrick.  A 
great  timber  was  going  up.  The  ropes  were  tightening, 
the  pulleys  creaking.  The  workmen  above  were  shouting 
to  those  below.  Suddenly  something  gave  way.  She  heard 
a  crash  and  then  a  confused  noise, —  a  rumbling,  a  sound  of 
falling  timber;  another  crash;  a  third,  coming  nearer  and 
nearer.  Not  only  the  staging  and  the  timbers,  but  the 
•whole  wall  was  falling. 

"  Run  !  run  !  run  !  "  She  heard  the  shout ;  saw  people 
on  the  opposite  sidewalk  gesticulating  to  her.  The  bricks 


254  Caleb  Krinkle. 

were  falling  around  her.  All  strength  left  her.  She  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  hands  to  shut  out  she  knew  not 
what.  Then  she  felt  that  there  were  strong  arms  around 
her;  that  somebody  was  lifting  her  with  the  strength  of  a 
giant,  bearing  her  over  the  bricks,  stones  and  timber  into 
the  street.  Suddenly  the  giant  dropped  her.  His  arms 
unclasped  as  if  all  his  strength  had  gone  out  in  an  instant. 
She  staggered,  but  did  not  fall.  There  was  a  great  crash 
brhind  her.  Bricks  rolled  past  her.  Timbers  swept  down 
with  a  whirr  through  the  air. 

She  was  upon  the  other  side  of  the  street  safe,  but  be- 
hir.d  her.  half  buried  beneath  the  fallen  wreck,  was  a  man 
lying  with  his  face  downward  and  his  hands  reaching  out 
motionless  toward  her.  His  hat  was  jammed  down  upon 
his  head,  and  the  pavement  was  spattered  with  his  blood. 
Men  were  running  to  rescue  him;  picking  away  the  bricks, 
lifting  the  boards  and  timbers. 

"He  is  breathing,"  some  one  said.  They  took  him  up 
and  carried  him  to  the  sidewalk  where  Bertha  was  stand 
ing.  She  looked  clown  into  the  blood-stained  face.  She 
had  seen  it  before  somewhere ;  it  was  a  face  that:  had 
haunted  her.  They  were  not  quite  the  features  that  she 
had  seen  in  her  dreams.  The  features  that  haunted  her 
were  those  of  a  boy,  but  this  was  a  man's  face.  Whose? 
Her  heart  had  been  standing  still,  but  it  leaped  into  her 
throat  when  after  gazing  a  moment  she  recognized  Caleb 
Krinkle. 

A  policeman  had  already  called  a  carriage,  and  was  driv 
ing  away  the  crowd  that  had  gathered. 

"Take  him  to  the  hospital,"  said  the  policeman. 

"  Take  him  to  my  house,"  said  Bertha  with  decision. 

"  I  have  no  authority  to  take  him  there,"  said  the  police 
man. 


Doctors  in  Council.  255 

V 

"But  I  have.  He  has  saved  my  life.  I  shall  not  let 
him  go  to  the  hospital,"  Bertha  replied. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  or  have  you  any  authority  in  the 
case?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  an  old  acquaintance.  Go  there,"  she  said, 
handing  the  officer  a  card  and  speaking  authoritatively. 

The  policeman  read  it  and  touched  his  hat  to  her.  He 
recognized  her  authority  without  further  question.  With 
the  help  of  bystanders  Caleb  was  lifted  into  the  carriage, 
and  was  driven  away.  Bertha  stepped  into  another  carriage 
and  reached  her  home  in  advance  of  the  first. 

"Get  a  doctor  quick,''  said  Bertha  to  the  coachman  ;  and 
the  coachman,  seeing  that  he  was  obeying  the  order  of  a 
Beacon  street  lady  who  had  plenty  of  money,  lashed  his 
horses  to  a  run.  —  a  very  unusual  thing  for  a  coachman  to 
do,  —  and  after  a  while,  returned  with  Doctor  Tragacanlh. 
Bertha's  own  coachman,  who  was  sunning  himself  in  the 
yard  when  the  carriage  containing  Caleb  drove  up,  followed 
by  a  crowd  of  boys,  and  who  ran  out  lo  see  what  the  com 
motion  was  about,  having  heard  Miss  Wayland's  command 
had  run  as  fast  as  he  could  in  search  of  Doctor  Squills, 
and  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  him  in  his  office,  but 
just  going  out  to  make  his  usual  calls.  Aunt  Janet's  house 
boy,  James,  or  Jim,  as  the  cook  usually  called  him,  —  eager 
to  win  the  good  will  of  his  mistress  and  an  extra  half 
dollar,  —  made  his  legs  fly  like  drumsticks,  while  run 
ning  to  the  office  of  Doctor  Biceps.  Thus  it  came  about 
that  Doctors  Tragacanth,  Squills  and  Biceps  were  each 
called  to  take  charge  of  the  case,  and  it  so  happened  that 
they  arrived  at  the  mansion  simultaneously. 

The  surgical  gentlemen  bowed  stiffly  to  each  other  as 
they  entered  the  chamber  into  which  Caleb  had  been  carried. 

"  This  is  my  case,  I  think,"  said  Doctor  Tragacanth. 


256  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Mine,  if  you  please,"  Doctor  Squills  replied. 

"  I  intend  to  claim  my  rights,  gentlemen,"  remarked 
Doctor  Biceps. 

"I  shall  not  relinquish  it." 

"  Neither  shall  I." 

"Nor  I." 

So  they  severally  said. 

Doctor  Tragacanth  began  to  examine  the  wound  on  the 
head,  Doctor  Squills  proceeded  to  look  at  the  bruises  up 
on  the  chest,  while  Doctor  Biceps  gave  his  attention  to  the 
contusions  on  the  limbs. 

"  Please  leave  nothing  undone,  gentlemen,  that  can  be 
done  for  him." 

It  was  a  message  from  Miss  Waylancl,  delivered  by 
Peter,  and  as  it  was  addressed  to  them  collectively,  the 
surgical  gentlemen  did  their  best,  in  perfect  accord,  to 
patch  up  the  mnmgled  form. 

"  There  is  a  very  bad  contusion  in  the  occipital  region]' 
said  Doctor  Tragacanth.  "It  is  very  bad.  The  cuticle  is 
cut,  not  only  through  the  papillary  layer,  but  through  the 
cranium.  The  posterior  con dyloid fossa  is  laid  bare  from 
the  superior  curved  line  across  \\\£  foramen  magnum.  The 
cerebellum,  the  cercbro  spinal  axis,  the  cncephalon,  and  the  me 
dulla  oblongato,  all  must  be  more  or  less  affected  by  the 
blow." 

"  I  discover,"  said  Doctor  Squills,  "  that  two  of  the  cos 
tal  cartilages  are  broken,  and  the  lumbar  regions  appear  to 
be  seriously  injured.  There  is  a  discoloration  in  the  vicin 
ity  of  the  sacro  lumbalis."1 

"The  injuries  to  the  limbs,"  said  Doctor  Biceps,  "  if  not 
so  dangerous  as  those  about  the  head  and  chest,  are  still 
quite  serious.  The  right  fibula  is  splintered  ;  there  is  an 
abrasion  covering  the  entire  surface  of  the  right  patella,  ex 


Doctors  in  Council.  257 

tending  from  the  point  where  the  quadriceps  extensor  cruets 
is  attached,  to  the  ligamentum  patella. " 

"There  is  a  deep  incision,"  Doctor  Tragacanth  said, 
"on  the  osfrontalis,  which  in  ay  have  injured  the  left  orbicu- 
laris  palpebrarum,  and  perhaps  the  corrugator  supercilli  and 
tensor  tarsi.  The  retrahens  aurem  is  bruised.  There  are 
contusions  of  the  right  zigomaticus  major,  the  compressor 
naris,  and  the  levator  labii  superioris  proprius" 

"  Of  course  we  cannot  know,"  said  Doctor  Squills, 
"  whether  or  not  the  abdominal  region  is  injured  internally, 
but  the  external  discolorations  are  quite  numerous  on  the 
thorax  and  along  the  dorsal  pedicles  to  the  sacrum  and  the 
toccyx." 

"There  is  a  displacement,"  said  Doctor  Biceps,  "of  the 
right  ungual  phalanges  and  the  metatarsals ;  possibly  the 
tendon,  of  the  extensor  brevis  digatorium  and  the  abductor 
polices  maybe  detached,  but  unless  mortification  should  set 
in,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  necessary  to  amputate." 

All  this,  rendered  into  every-day  'language,  would  have 
meant  that  there  were  very  serious  wounds  on  the  back  of 
the  head,  at  the  base  of  the  brain.  So  severe  were  they 
that  Caleb  Krinkle  was  lying  senseless  before  the  doctors, 
and  quite  likely  might  continue  so  for  several  days.  The 
blows  had  seriously  affected  the  brain  and  the  nerves  con 
nected  with  the  spinal  column.  There  were  cuts  here  and 
there  upon  his  head,  in  the  left  eyebrow,  on  the  bridge  of 
the  nose,  on  the  left  cheek,  and  behind  the  left  ear.  There 
was  a  bad  bruise  on  the  right  knee,  one  of  the  bones  of 
his  right  leg  w.as  cracked,  two  of  the  lower  ribs  were 
broken,  and  there  were  bruises  upon  his  body.  In  addition, 
the  great  toe  of  the  right  foot  was  badly  jammed,  but  Doc 
tor  Biceps  was  not  in  favor  of  cutting  it  off  just  then. 

Having  thus  gone  over  the  case,  the  blood  was  washed 


258  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

from  the  matted  hair,  the  .scalp  laid  back  in  place,  sticking 
plaster  applied  to  the  wounds,  and  the  great  toe  done  up 
in  a  rag.  Science  could  do  no  more.  The  three  wise  men 
had  done  their  best  and  the  rest  must  be  left  to  nature. 

The  three  doctors  went  home  quite  well  satisfied  with 
their  morning's  work,  —  happy  to  know  that  when  quarter- 
day  came  round  their  bills  would  not  be  sent  to  the  penni 
less  young  man,  but  to  the  heiress  of  Beacon  street. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

PETER   AND    HIS    PATIENT. 

"T  IT  7"  HERE  was  he  ?  It  was  a  question  that  Caleb  Krin- 
V  V  kle  was  turning  over  in  his  mind.  That  he  was  in  a 
strange  place,  a  very  nice  place,  that  he  was  in  bed,  that 
something  was  the  matter  with  him,  was  evident.  The 
chamber  was  large.  There  were  beautiful  paintings  on  the 
walls;  there  was  a  marble  mantle,  with  a  fire  beneath  it  in 
the  grate.  The  curtains  around  the  windows  were  of  crim 
son  and  gold.  A  mirror  reflected  all  the  scene.  The  bed 
stead  was  of  black  walnut,  richly  carved.  There  was  a  stand 
with  vials  and  goblets  upon  it,  and  a  beautiful  bouquet  of 
fresh  flowers  in  a  vase.  Where  was  he  ?  He  had  not  the 
remotest  idea.  Where  had  he  been  last?  His  mind  was 
rather  foggy,  and  he  could  not  make  out  much.  What  was 
he  doing?  He  remembered  that  he  took  a  stroll  on  the 
common ;  that  the  robins  were  singing ;  that  he  listened  to 
them  awhile,  and  thought  that  they  were  wishing  him  good- 
morning.  He  remembered  that  he  walked  down  a  street. 
He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  the  tumbling  down  of  a 
staging,  of  seeing  a  lady  in  danger,  and  of  wishing  he  could 
help  her.  But  all  else  was  fog,  with  not  a  shadow  of  recol 
lection  flitting  about  in  it.  He  went  over  the  events  a  sec- 
end  time,  but  with  no  better  success.  While  thus  thinking, 

259 


260  Caleb  Kr inkle, 

the  door  opened  and  a  black  face  appeared  with  thick  lips,  a 
broad  nose,  a  mass  of  white  hair  above  the  features,  and  a 
short,  stumpy  body  below  them.  The  negro  closed  the  door 
softly  and  came  on  tiptoe  toward  him,  —  so  softly  that  Caleb 
could  not  hear  his  steps. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Caleb. 

"Bress  de  Lord!  Good-morning,  sah,"  said  the  negro, 
rolling  the  whites  of  his  eyes.  Caleb  concluded  that  he 
must  be  a  devout  fellow. 

"How  do  you  do,  sah?     Hope  you  arc  pretty  well,  sah." 

"First  rate.     But  will  you  please  tell  me  where  I  am?" 

"Why,  you  are  right  here,  sah.  That's  where  you  are, 
sah." 

"Oh,  yes, I  know  that ;  but  I  don't  quite  understand  where 
here  is." 

"Wall,  sah,  it  is  in  dis  yere  chamber,  sah ;  with  me,  sah." 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  who  you  are?" 

"I  am  old  Peter,  sah." 

"Haven't  I  seen  you  somewhere?" 

"  I  think  it  quite  likely,  sah ;  I've  been  dere,  sah."  Old 
Peter  smiled,  displaying  a  set  of  very  white  teeth.  Caleb 
laughed  at  the  reply. 

"  Ho\v  long  have  I  been  here?" 

"Oh,  just  long  enough  to  take  a  little  nap,  sah;  you've 
been  asleep,  sah." 

"  I  know  that ;  but  how  comes  it  that  I  am  asleep  here  ? 
This  isn't  my  room." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sah,  dis  is  your  room  ;  set  apart  'spressly  for  you, 
sah ;  just  like  one  of  de  rooms  in  de  mansion  prepared  for 
us  by  de  good  Lord,  and  I  have  de  care  of  ye,  sah,  tank  de 
Lord." 

Caleb  could  not  quite  understand  it.  There  must  be  a 
screw  loose  about  him  somewhere,  for  his  brain  was  tired 


Peter  anil  his  Patient.  261 

and  he  could  not  put  things  together.  He  never  had  been 
in  such  a  luxurious  apartment  before.  The  stories  of  the 
"Arabian  Nights"  floated  through  his  brain, and  the  negro's  al 
lusion  to  the  mansions  prepared  for  the  redeemed,  instead  of 
enlightening,  confused  him.  That  he  was  in  a  blessed  place 
was  evident  from  what  he  could  see  around  him  :  but  was  it 
not  all  a  dream  ? 

The  negro  pulled  a  great  silver  watch  from  his  pocket, 
looked  at  it,  and  then  placed  his  fingers  on  Caleb's  wrist, 
and  counted  in  a  whisper,  "One  —  two  —  three,"  on  up  to- 
seventy.  Caleb  wondered  if  he  was  a  doctor. 

"  De  internal  machinery  is  going  with  de  perfoundest 
regularity  dis  morning,  sah.  I  tink,  sah,  we  shall  pull  you 
through  all  right,  sah," — which  was  Greek  to  Caleb. 

"  It  was  a  very  narrer  chance,  sah  ;  we  shall  bring  you 
through  by  de  skin  of  our  teeth,  sah.  But  de  rhububs  and 
sillabubs  and  de  nitro  glycerim  and  de  \vhat-ye-may-call- 
'em  have  been  blessed  by  de  good  Lord  for  to  raise  you 
up  again,  sah." 

"  Who  is  pulling  me  through  ?  " 

"  Me  and  de  doctor,  sah  ;  Doctor  Tragacanth,  sah,  de 
bery  best  doctor  dere  is  in  de  city,  sah.  We  are  pulling 
you  from  de  bery  jaws  of  def,  sah.  We  was  'fraid  dat  you 
would  go  to  de  kingdom-come  in  spite  of  us,  sah,  but  we 
put  de  nitro  glycerim  upon  you,  and  we  gave  you  de  silla 
bubs,  and  dey  wound  de  fixin's  'round  you,  and  so  kept  de 
wheels  of  de  mortal  machine  agvvine,  sah.  Old  Peter  has 
watched  by  your  bedside,  sah,  widout  any  intercession." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Peter." 

"  Tank  you,  sah.  I  was  determined  to  do  what  I  could 
to  keep  de  mysterious  pulses  of  life  a  ticking,  sah,  and  de 
Lord  has  been  pleased  to  smile  upon  our  labors,  sah." 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  how  I  came  here." 


262  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  Dey  brought  you  in  de  kerrige,'  sah." 

"Whose  carriage  ? " 

"  I  can't  zactly  say  whose  kerrige  it  was.  I  'spect  it's 
one  dey  picked  up,  sah." 

"  Who  brought  me  ?  " 

"  De  perlice,  sah.     Dey  were  bery  kind,  sah." 

"  Certainly  they  were  ;  but  what  did  they  bring  me  here 
for  ? " 

"  Because  missus  told  'em  dey  must,  sah.  One  of  'em 
asked  if  she  took  de  'sponsibility,  and  she  said  dat  she 
took  it,  and  dey  give  in,  and  didn't  make  no  further  dejec 
tion,  sah." 

Caleb  could  not  make  it  out, — picking  up  a  carriage — the 
policemen  giving  in  to  a  lady  —  the  "  'sponsibility  "  and 
"dejection;"  there  was  such  a  tangle  that  his  tired  brain 
could  not  find  any  beginning  or  end  to  the  thread. 

"  Where  had  I  been  ?  " 

"  De  Lord  knows,  but  I  don't,  sah." 

"  Had  I  been  doing  any  thing  ?  " 

"  Dere  you  have  me  agin,  sah.  I  haven't  de  gift  of  see 
ing  wid  dese  mortal  eyes  de  wayward  footsteps  of  all  de 
people  on  de  great  roun'  globe,  sah.  I  don't  know  as  you 
had  been  doing  noffin,  sah." 

"  I  must  have  been  somewhere." 

"  I  tink  bery  likely,  sah." 

"  You  spoke  of  your  mistress  :  who  is  she  ? " 

"  Why,  she  is  missus,  sah  ;  dat's  who  she  is." 

"Where  does  she  live?" 

"  Why,  bress  your  soul,  she  lives  in  dis  bery  house,  sah." 

There  was  a  portrait  of  a  middle-aged  lady  hanging 
above  the  mantle.  The  countenance  was  a  little  prim, 
but  upon  the  whole  a  pleasing  one.  Caleb  concluded  that 
it  was  the  portrait  of  the  lady  whom  Peter  called  missus. 


Peter  and  his  Patient.  263 

"  May  I  ask,  Peter,  whose  portrait  that  is  ? " 
"  Dat  is  de  portrait    of   Miss    Porgie,  who    lives  here. 
She  has  done  ebery  ting  she  could  for  you,  sah.     She  told 
me  to  get  de  bery  best  misses  for  you,  sah,  and  to  leave 
noffin  undone  to  get  you  out  of  de  jaws  of  def,  sah." 
"  She  is  very  kind  ;  I  never  can  repay  her." 
"  And  missus  says  she  never  can  repay  you  for  what  you 
hab  done  in  saving  her  life,  sah." 
"  Saved  her  life  !  " 

"Yes,  sah,  you  saved  missus'  life.  Didn't  you  catch 
right  hold  of  her  and  carry  her  out  into  de  street  when  de 
bricks  and  de  stone  and  de  boards  and  de  timber  was  a 
raining  and  tumbling  and  falling  and  coming  down  just 
like  de  last  great  clay  of  judgment  all  around  her  ?  Yes, 
you  did,  sah." 

"  Oh,  I  remember.  And  wasn't  she  hurt  ?  " 
"  No,  sah,  not  de  leastest  bit.  But  de  timbers  and  de 
bricks,  dey  smashed  you  to  de  ground,  and  you  was  took 
up  all  pounded  to  a  jelly,  wid  a  great  gash  on  your  head, 
and  de  blood  a  stainin'  de  ground,  and  you  was  all  as  lim- 
sey  as  a  rag,  sah,  and  didn't  know  nuffin  ;  and  de  perlice 
were  gwine  to  take  you  to  de  hospital,  but  missus  said  no. 
You  had  saved  her  life,  and  she  wouldn't  tink  of  it,  sah, 
but  had  'em  bring  you  right  here,  sah,  and  de  Lord  be 
praised  for  it !  If  dey  had  tuk  ye  to  de  hospital,  where 
dere  would  have  been  no  old  Peter  to  pull  ye  through,  I 
spect,  sah,  dat  Def  would  have  come  along  wid  his  big 
black  kerrige,  all  hung  roun'  wid  black  velvet,  and  de 
plumes  waving  above  ye,  and  would  have  carried  you  down 
to  de  dark  and  silent  grave,  sah." 

Caleb  listened  to  Peter's  narration  with  grateful  emotions. 
The  fog  was  clearing  away.  He  remembered  the  workmen 
on  the  building,  the  heavy  timber  swaying  in  the  air,  the 


-•'4  Caleb  Krinklc. 

\  ill  of  the  derrick,  the  crash,  the  giving  way  of  the  staging  ; 
remembered  seeing  a  lady  covering  her  face  with  her  hands ; 
remembered  that  a  great  wave  of  thought  came  over  him. 
How  to  save  her  was  the  question.  Crash !  Crash ! 
Crash  !  It  was  above  him.  A  bound,  and  he  was  behind 
her.  He  had  the  strength  of  a  giant.  Who  she  was  he 
did  not  know.  To  rescue  her,  to  snatch  her  from  death, 
was  the  uncontrollable  impulse  of  the  moment.  All  the 
rest  was  dark. 

But  he  had  saved  her !  Thank  God  !  He  had  done 
his  duty. 

"  Was  I  injured  ?  " 

"  Wall,  sah,  I  reckon  you  was.  De  doctors  said  so,  sah. 
Doctor  Squills  said  dat  your  costly  cartridges  were  broken 
by  de  lumber  dat  fell  upon  you,  sah,  and  dat  de  lignum 
vite  someting,  dat  was  fastened  to  de  extensive  quadruped, 
orsometing  or  oder,  was  upbraided,  sah." 

"  That  was  very  bad  indeed,  Peter,"  said  Caleb,  smiling. 

"  And,  sah,  Doctor  Tragacanth  said  dat  dere  was  some 
thing  de  matter  with  de  corrugated  spermaciti,  sah.  And 
jes  dere  he  said  something  about  Major  Zygomati.  Who 
de  gemmen  is  I  dunno,  sah ;  but  de  doctor  called  him  a 
cuss,  sah.  Doctor  Squills  said  dat  he  couldn't  zactly  say 
whether  you  was  abominably  injured  or  not,  but  he  said 
dat  de  borax  was  all  black  and  blue,  sah." 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  I  was  so  badly  hurt  as  that,"  said 
Caleb,  laughing. 

''  Dey  said  a  great  deal  more,  sah ;  so  much  dat  I  reck 
oned  you  was  about  done  for,  sah.  Dere  was  some  talk 
about  cutting  of  de  unequal  flanges,  and  de  oder  tings 
connected  wid  dem,  sah,  but  Doctor  Biceps  said  he  should 
have  de  mortification  to  do  it,  and  dey  didn't,  sah.  Dey  is 
all  dere,  I  reckon,  sah." 


Peter  and  his  Patient.  265 

Caleb  could  not  think  of  lying  there,  a  pensioner,  as  it 
were ;  he  must  be  up  and  away  to  his  own  room. 

"  Well,  Peter,  I  am  very  grateful  for  what  you  and  your 
mistress  have  done  for  me.  I  must  see  her  some  day  and 
thank  her  for  her  kindness,  but  if  you  will  bring  me  my 
clothes  I  will  get  up  now." 

"  I  should  ascertain,  sah,  dat  it  would  be  entirely  more 
conclusive  to  your  health  to  remain  quiet  a  little  while 
longer,  sah." 

"  How  long  have  I  been  here?  " 

"  Quite  a  considerable  length  of  time,  sah.  De  sun  has 
been  making  his  daily  circus  through  de  heavens  for  two 
whole  weeks,  sah,  since  you  were  brought  here,  sah." 

"  Two  weeks !  " 

"Yes,  sah,  fourteen  days,  —  a  whole  fortnight,  sah." 

"  If  I  have  been  a  burden  upon  your  mistress  that  length 
of  time,  I  cannot  think  of  staying  longer;  so  if  you  will  get 
my  clothes  I  will  relieve  you  and  your  mistress  of  all  further 
care." 

"Wall,  sah,  I  can  get  your  clothes,  but  please  scuse  me, 
sah ;  I  should  ascertain  dat  dey  isn't  in  jes  de  condition  dat 
a  gemmen  would  like  to  make  his  'pearance  in  public ; 
dey  is  altogether  tattered  and  tored,  sah.'' 

"  But  I  can't  lie  here.  If  my  clothes  are  not  fit  to  be 
seen,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  send  some  one  to  my  room 
to  bring  up  my  other  suit." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sah ;  dat  we  will  do  wid  pleasure,  sah ;  but  if 
I  were  you,  1  wouldn't  try  to  get  up  jes  yet,  sah." 

"  I  am  tired  of  lying  here." 

"  I  dare  say,  sah.  Two  weeks  is  a  very  long  time  to  lie 
in  a  declining  position,  and  mebbe  you  feel  somewhat  stiff 
in  de  jints." 

"  Yes,  I  do,   and  I  guess  I  will   sit  up  awhile."     Caleb 


266  Caleb   Kr inkle. 

made  an  effort  to  raise  himself,  but  found  it  impossible  to 
lift  his  head  or  use  his  arms.     He  was  as  weak  as  a  child. 

Then,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  mirror,  he  saw  that  there 
was  very  little  color  in  his  cheeks.  He  was  surprised  to 
see  how  thin  in  flesh  he  was.  The  thought  that  he  was 
helpless,  that  he  was  a  burden  upon  others,  disquieted  him. 
He  could  not  lie  there.  With  one  heroic  effort  he  would 
throw  off  the  clothes  and  assert  his  independence.  He 
made  the  attempt,  but  fell  back  powerless,  with  pains  dart 
ing  through  him  like  needles. 

"  I  don't  tink,  sah,  dat  I  would  try  to  do  it  if  I  were  you. 
I  should  ascertain,  sah,  dat  you  had  better  'bide  by  old 
Peter's  judgment.  Old  Peter  and  Doctor  Tragacanth  to 
gether  will  pull  you  through,  sah.  I  have  promised  missus 
clat  you  shall  have  de  very  best  of  nussing,  and  she's  very 
particular,  sah,  and  inquires  after  you  morning,  noon  and 
night,  and  several  times  in  de  forenoon  and  de  afternoon, 
sah.  She  says  to  me,  '-Don't  let  him  want  for  noffin.'  Such 
being  de  case,  sah,  you  will  not  tink  it  strange  dat  I  have 
de  utmost  solitude  for  your  recovery,  sah.  Old  Peter,  wid 
de  help  of  de  doctor  and  de  good  Lord,  hab  brought  ye 
up  so  far  from  def's  door,  and  dey  will  make  ye  as  good 
as  new,  sah." 

"  Thank  you,  Peter,  and  please  give  my  thanks  to  your 
mistress,  and  tell  her  that  when  I  am  a  little  stronger  I  will 
thank  her  in  person." 

"  Yes,  sah,  wid  de  greatest  pleasure,"  said  Peter,  looking 
at  his  watch,  "'but  now,  sah,  if  you  please,  de  hour  hab 
arrived  for  you  to  take  one  of  de  seductive  powders  dat 
de  doctor  left ;  it  is  for  de  qualming  of  de  nerves  and  for 
de  general  restoration  of  de  equal  abraham  of  de  system." 

Caleb  was  greatly  amused  at  the  explanation  of  Peter, 
but  as  he  felt  weary,  closed  his  eyes  and  was  very  soon 
asleep. 


Peter  and  his  Patient  267 

The  crisis  was  passed.  The  injury  had  been  very  seri 
ous,  but,  thanks  to  a  vigorous  constitution,  his  strength, 
quickly  returned.  He  thanked  God  that  he  had  been  able 
to  do  his  duty  when  duty  called,  and  that  he  had  been  so- 
kindly  cared  for.  Peter  was  not  only  an  attentive  nurse, 
but  a  very  amusing  and  agreeable  companion.  His  words 
were  not  always  the  best  that  could  have  been  chosen,  but 
they  expressed  his  ideas,  and  that  was  sufficient.  The 
only  drawback  to  Caleb's  happiness  was  the  thought  that 
he  was  indebted  to  the  bounty  of  the  good  lady  whose  por 
trait  was  before  him.  He  was  able  to  sit  in  a  rocking-chair, 
robed  in  a  rich  dressing-gown,  which  Peter  brought  to  him 
with  the  compliments  of  his  mistress,  and  he  wished  to 
thank  her  in  person. 

"  Please  give  my  compliments  to  your  mistress,"  he  said, 
"  and  say  to  Miss  Porgie  that  I  am  sitting  in  state  this 
morning  and  shall  be  very  happy  to  receive  callers." 

Peter  retired  with  the  message,  and  after  a  little  -time 
returned,  throwing  the  door  wide  open  and  standing  by  it. 
A  large  and  stately  lady  with  gray  hairs  and  a  pleasant 
countenance  entered  the  room,  advanced  and  shook  hands, 
with  him. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Krinkle.  I  am  very  happy  to  see 
you  getting  on  so  well.  We  never  can  repay  you  for  what 
you  have  done,  never,  never.  It  was  a  heroic  action." 

"  1  only  did  my  duty,  but  I  never  can  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  me,"  he  replied. 

Was  this  the  lady  he  had  rescued  ?  She  would  weigh  two- 
hundred  pounds  at  least.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  so  large 
when  he  clasped  his  arms  around  her.  But  there  was  some 
one  behind  her. 

"I  need  not  introduce  Miss  Bertha,  —  you  know  her," 
said  Miss  Porgie,  stepping  one  side,  and  Bertha  stood  be- 


268  Caleb  Krinkle. 

fore  him  with  a  bright  flush  on  her  cheeks,  and  with  some 
thing  of  heaven  in  her  eyes. 

"  Miss  Wayland  !  " 

It  was  all  he  could  say.  She  grasped  his  hand,  touched 
her  lips  to  his  forehead,  and  gazed  into  his  eyes. 

Ah,  that  moment  of  bliss !  of  gratitude  and  thankful 
ness  ! 

Silence  is  more  eloquent  than  speech  at  times.  With 
clasped  hands  they  thanked  God  in  their  hearts  that  so 
their  pathways  had  crossed. 

She  seated  herself  upon  an  ottoman  at  his  feet,  holding 
him  by  the  hand,  and  looking  up  into  his  face,  to  let  him 
know  that  in  her  whole  being  she  thanked  him.  It  was  a 
gratitude  that  words  could  not  express. 

"  How  strange,  how  wonderful  that  I  should  be  at  hand 
when  you  most  needed  me  !  I  did  not  know  it  was  you 
whom  I  saw  standing  irresolute  and  powerless  to  move 
amid  the  falling  bricks,"  said  Caleb. 

"  Nor  did  I  know  who  had  saved  me,  till  you  were  picked 
up  and  brought  to  the  sidewalk  and  laid  at  my  feet.  O 
Mr.  Krinkle,  I  never  can  thank  you  enough." 

"  Nor  can  I  ever  express  my  thanks  to  you  for  taking 
such  care  of  me  through  all  these  weeks. 

"  But  how  happens  it  that  you  have  not  known  till  this 
moment  that  I  was  the  one  whom  you  had  rescued  ?  Who 
did  you  think  it  was  ?  " 

"I  supposed  that  it  was  Miss  Porgie." 

"  O  Mr.  Krinkle  !  you  surely  could  not  have  carried 
me,  I  am  such  a  monster :  we  should  have  both  perished 
together,"  said  Aunt  Janet. 

"  I  supposed  that  Peter  had  told  you  all  about  it,"  said 
Bertha. 

"  Mr.  Krinkle  nebber  asked  me  if  it  was  you,  missus  ; 
he  asked  whose  dat  picter  was,  and  I  said,  Miss  Porgie's." 


Peter  and  his  Patient.  269 

"  You  are  right,  Peter.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  was  the  portrait  of  the  lady  whose  life  I  had  attempted 
to  save,  and  I  think,  Miss  Porgie,  even  if  it  had  been  your 
self  instead  of  Miss  Wayland,  I  should  have  done  the 
same.  I  did  not  stop  to  think  how  much  I  could  lift,  but 
at  that  moment  I  could  have  taken  up  almost  any  thing." 

They  went  over  the  scene, — Bertha  telling  of  her  loi 
tering  upon  the  Common,  her  wandering  for  no  purpose 
through  the  streets,  her  coming  to  the  building,  of  the 
sudden  loss  of  strength,  how  she  expected  instant  death, 
how  she  found  herself  borne  over  the  timbers  and 
bricks  to  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
story.  And  Caleb  went  over  his  wanderings,  his  purpose 
less  walk,  going  for  nothing,  hearing  the  crash,  seeing  some 
one  standing  there  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  then 
feeling  the  strength  of  a  giant,  and  doing  what  he  did. 

Peter  had  been  nervously  looking  at  his  watch,  and  now 
he  bowed,  and  said, — 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  missus,  to  intercept  de  pleasant  flow  of 
de  stream  of  de  conversation  wid  Mr.  Krinkle,  but  1 
should  ascertain  dat  de  intermission  had  been  going  on  quite 
as  long  as  is  advisable,  considering  dat  de  equal  abraham  of 
his  system  is  not  completely  restored." 

"  You  are  very  thoughtful,  Peter.  I  have  been  so  inter 
ested  in  what  Mr.  Krinkle  has  been  saying  that  I  did  not 
know  we  had  been  here  so  long.  It  is  quite  time  for  us  to 
go,"  said  Aunt  Janet,  rising. 

"  I  fear  that  we  have  tired  you,"  said  Bertha. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  feel  stronger  already  for  your  visit,  and  shall 
hope  to  see  you  again  whenever  you  can  make  it  conven 
ient  to  come." 

"  We  shall  certainly  darken  your  doors  very  often,"  said 
Aunt  Janet. 


2 jo  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"Fill  my  chamber  with  light,  rather,"  Caleb  replied  as 
they  passed  out. 

How  blissful  to  lie  upon  his  soft  bed  and  think  of  what 
had  happened ;  to  go  back  over  the  years  to  that  first 
moment  when  he  beheld  Bertha  beneath  the  maples  in  the 
sugar  orchard  ;  of  that  slide  down  the  hill,  his  head  almost 
resting  on  her  shoulder;  of  that  ambrosial  night  when  he 
led  her  triumphantly  into  the  Copenhagen  fortress ;  of  the 
catastrophe  to  Moses  in  the  race,  their  ride  in  the  moon 
light,  and  now,  after  all  the  years,  this  new  and  wonder 
ful  outcome  of  events ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

MOSES    BURNS   THE    MIDNIGHT    GAS. 

r  I  ^HE  young  attorney  and  counsellor-at-law,  Moses 
J^  Meek,  Jr.,  having  well-furnished  apartments  at  the 
West  End,  and  an  office  in  Pemberton  square,  was  down 
town  burning  the  midnight  gas.  He  was  not  in  his  office 
preparing  a  brief,  but  in  an  upper  chamber  in  a  building 
situated  on  a  narrow  alley.  The  window  shutters  in  the 
chamber  were  closed,  for  Moses  and  the  gentlemen  who 
were  burning  the  gas  with  him  did  not  care  to  have  the 
police  poking  their  noses  into  the  apartment  to  see  what 
was  going  on  there  from  midnight  till  morning. 

When  Moses  turned  into  the  alley  on  his  way  to  the 
chamber,  he  took  a  look  in  several  directions  to  see  if  the 
police  were  in  the  vicinity,  and  having  satisfied  himself 
that  they  were  not,  gave  three  pulls  to  the  bell-knob,  when 
the  door,  as  if  understanding  that  he  wanted  to  be  taken 
in,  unfastened  itself.  Ascending  the  stairs,  Moses  entered 
the  chamber  and  sat  down  with  the  gentlemen  already 
there  to  a  table  covered  with  a  green  cloth,  with  the  gas 
flaming  above  him,  and  gave  close  attention  to  a  little 
game  of  cards.  So  interesting  was  the  game  that  he 
followed  it  till  nearly  daybreak,  paying  no  heed  to  the 
rumbling  of  the  market-wagons  that  were  coming  in  from 

271 


272  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  country,  or  to  the  wind  coming  in  from  the  sea,  rattling 
the  shutters  and  whistling  at  the  key-holes. 

It  was  almost  morning  when  Moses,  having  burned  gas 
enough  for  one  night,  descended  the  stairs,  turned  into  the 
alley,  dodged  hastily  round  a  corner,  and  passed  into 
Court  street.  No  policeman  was  in  sight.  The  wind 
alone  confronted  him.  It  swept  past  him,  came  back  and 
danced  around  him,  twirled  his  whiskers,  thrust  its  ringers 
through  his  hair,  breathed  in  his  face,  laughed  in  his  ears, 
and  then  rushed  on,  rattling  doors,  slamming  blinds,  and 
twisting  the  limbs  from  the  trees. 

Moses  was  in  no  mood  to  be  laughed  at,  for  an  ill  wind 
had  crept  up  stairs  into  the  chamber  and  played  the  mis 
chief  with  him  there.  He  was  a  good  deal  out  of  pocket. 
The  wind,  as  if  knowing  it,  was  taunting  him.  "  Ha  !  ha  I 
ha  !  "  it  laughed.  It  became  rude  to  him,  and  knocked  his 
hat  into  the  gutter,  and  gave  it  a  kick  clown  the  hill, 
bowling  it  along  so  fast  that  Moses  could  not  quite  keep 
up  with  it.  Several  times  he  had  it  almost  within  his 
grasp,  when  the  wind  gave  it  another  whirl.  Moses,  from 
having  burned  the  gas  so  long,  with  considerable  whiskey 
to  keep  him  in  spirits,  was  a  little  unsteady  in  his  legs, 
but  after  a  spirited  chase,  captured  the  hat,  and  found 
it  dripping  with  mud.  He  put  it  on  his  head,  however, 
and  jammed  it  down,  laying  several  heavy  oaths  upon  the 
crown,  as  the  people  of  Switzerland  put  stones  on  the  roofs 
of  their  houses  to  keep  them  in  place. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  wind  again  from  the  oppo 
site  corner,  where  it  had  been  watching  him.  Then  the 
rain  slapped  him  in  the  face,  beat  a  tattoo  upon  his  back, 
and  pelted  him  all  the  way  to  his  home.  He  blundered 
up  stairs  and  entered  his  bed-chamber.  He  was  wet  and 
cold  and  out  of  sorts.  In  order  to  warm  himself,  he  took 


Moses  Burns  the  Midnight  Gas.  273 

a  large  glass  of  whiskey;  and  to  get  into  sorts,  tumbled 
into  bed. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  Moses  awoke.  There  was  a 
pain  in  his  head.  He  pulled  the  crimson  tassel  of  the  bell- 
cord  that  hung  against  the  wall  by  the  head  of  the  bed. 
There  was  a  faint  tinkling  of  a  bell  in  the  basement,  and 
soon  after  a  sound  of  boots  upon  the  stairs,  and  then  the 
door  of  his  room  opened  and  a  colored  boy  entered. 

"Did  you  ring?" 

"  Of  course  I  did,  you  black  rascal.  I  want  a  bottle  of 
soda  water  and  my  breakfast." 

The  boy  disappeared,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  absence,  re 
turned  with  the  soda,  a  plate  of  toast,  a  boiled  egg  and  a 
cup  of  coffee. 

Moses  drank  the  soda  and  nibbled  a  bit  of  toast,  but  had  no 
appetite  for  the  egg.  His  head  ached.  He  wrapped  a  wet 
towel  around  his  brow  and  curled  down  into  bed  again.  An 
hour's  sleep,  with  the  soda  and  towel,  refreshed  him. 

It  was  past  noon,  however,  when  he  arose,  and  he  was  not 
even  then  altogether  in  sorts.  The  sight  of  his  hat  bedrab- 
bled  with  mud,  and  his  wet  clothes,  brought  to  mind  the  ex 
perience  of  the  night,  the  recollection  of  which  was  not  agree 
able.  The  pictures  upon  the  walls,  although  by  French  ar 
tists,  for  the  moment  had  no  power  to  charm  him  ;  nor  was 
he  inclined  to  read  any  of  the  French  novels  that  were  lying 
on  the  table.  He  lighted  a  cigar,  and  while  puffing  it,  gave 
himself  up  to  reflection. 

Things  were  not  going  to  suit  him.  He  had  had  a  rascal 
ly  run  of  luck.  He  was  several  hundred  dollars  out  of 
pocket. 

But  there  was  a  more  important  matter  to  be  taken  into 
consideration,  —  the  prospective  relations  between  hirrs  If 
and  Miss  IJ.Ttha  Wayland.  The  acquaintance  funned  at 


274  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Hilltown  had  ripened  into  friendship.  He  had  been  a  fre 
quent  visitor,  at  the  Wayland  mansion,  and  had  been  cor 
dially  received  by  Bertha  and  Aunt  Janet.  He  had  been 
their  escort  on  many  occasions  at  Saratoga  and  Newport, 
and  flattered  himself  that  Bertha  had  a  tender  regard  for 
him,  for  had  she  not  many  times  accepted  his  arm  in  the 
promenade  when  other  gentlemen  stood  waiting  to  render 
all  possible  attention?  Had  she  not  strolled  with  him  on 
the  beach  at  Newport  and  listened  with  rapture  to  his  rec 
itations  of  poetry?  And  although  she  had  been  the  bright 
star  of  society  at  Washington,  there  had  been  no  visible 
abatement  of  her  friendship.  Yet  he  could  see  that  a 
change  was  taking  place  in  her.  She  was  becoming 
thoughtful  and  reserved.  Why,  he  did  not  know,  nor 
could  he  surmise  a  reason.  But  the  time  evidently  had 
come  for  him  to  make  sure  of  the  prize  within  his  reach. 
He  was  to  dine  at  the  Wayland  mansion  that  very  evening, 
upon  invitation,  and  he  would  improve  the  opportunity  to 
have  a  private  interview  with  Bertha  and  declare  his 
love. 

If  we  wonder  at  the  self-assurance  of  Moses,  in  aspiring 
to  obtain  possession  of  the  heart  and  hand  and  fortune  of 
Bertha,  we  are  not  to  forget  that  Sir  George  Crumpet,  an 
admiral  in  the  Navy,  a  senator  from  Out  West,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  Lieutenant  Spoony,  and  many  others,  had  fully  per 
suaded  themselves  that  Bertha  was  necessary  to  their  hap 
piness.  Without  her  they  would  be  forever  miserable, 
with  her  they  would  be  supremely  happy. 

The  rain  on  this  stormy  day  was  driving  against  the  win 
dows  of  the  Wayland  mansion,  and  the  wind  sighing  through 
the  casements.  It  was  a  ceaseless  monody  pitched  on  a 
minor  key.  It  came  from  the  sea,  and  as  Bertha  listened  to 
it  during  the  day  she  thought  of  the  ships  that  were  ashore 


Moses  Burns  the  Midnight  Gas.  275 

on  the  rocks  of  Nahant,  which  she  had  read  about  in  the 
morning  papers  ;  she  thought  of  the  dashing  surf,  the  blind 
ing  spray,  the  thundering  of  the  waves,  of  the  men  that  were 
clinging  to  the  rigging,  shouting  for  help  to  those  on  shore, 
who  were  powerless  to  aid  them ;  of  the  going  out  of  hope. 
How  sad  !  how  terrible  !  She  walked  the  parlor,  looked 
out  into  the  storm,  and  saw  the  trees  upon  the  Common 
bending  before  the  blast,  and  the  gulls,  driven  inward, 
flying  before  the  wind.  It  was  a  lonely  morning.  There 
were  few  carriages  in  the  street,  and  not  many  passers-by. 
There  was  nothing  but  rain  and  mist  and  low  hanging 
clouds  and  gloom  without,  and  deeper  gloom  within.  The 
heavy  folds  of  the  curtains  shut  out  the  day.  She  lighted 
the  chandelier,  but  its  flickering  flames  were  but  a  travers- 
ty  upon  the  sun.  It  was  artificial  day. 

"It  is  as  artificial  as  my  life  has  been,"  Bertha  said  to 
herself  as  she  sat  there  beholding  it. 

She  ran  her  fingers  over  the  piano  and  began  a  concerto, 
but  it  was  like  a  child's  drumming,  —  soulless  sound.  She 
came  to  a  dead  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  first  movement, 
tossed  the  music  aside,  closed  the  piano,  walked  into  the 
library,  and  ran  her  eyes  over  the  volumes  upon  the  shelves. 
There  were  history,  biography,  travels,  novels,  art  and  sci 
ence,  but  nothing  that  she  wished  to  read,  —  nothing  that 
could  dispel  the  gloom.  There  came  a  thought :  — 

"  If  so  gloomy  the  day  to  me,  what  must  it  be  to  him  ?  " 

She  wa"s  thinking  of  Caleb,  —  "  the  caged  young  eagle," 
as  Doctor  Tragacanth  had  called  him,  up  stairs  still,  but 
well  enough  to  come  down  and  dine  with  herself  and 
Aunt  Janet,  as  he  did  every  day,  and  yet  who  must  have 
many  more  weeks  of  rest  before  he  could  apply  himself  to 
study.  How  very  dull  it  must  be  to  him,  physically  well, 
but  not  able  to  use  his  brain  after  the  violent  concussion 


276  Caleb  Krinkle. 

he  had  received.  She  sat  down  to  the  table,  wrote  a 
note,  and  sent  it  by  Peter  to  Mr.  Krinkle's  room.  Thus  it 
read  :  — 

"Down-stairs,  II  A.M. 
"  MR.  KRINKLE:  — 

"  Aunt  Janet  is  busy  in  her  room.     Come  down,  please,  if  you  can, 
and  help  me  drive  the  gloom  out  of  the  house. 

"BERTHA." 

He  could  not  refuse  such  a  request,  and  at  once  de 
scended  the  stairs. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  come  down,  Mr.  Krinkle," 
said  Bertha,  meeting  him  in  the  hall.  "  I  am  lonesome 
to-day,  and  I  thought  that  if  the  day  was  gloomy  to  me, 
it  must  be  very  dreary  to  you,  up  there  all  alone." 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  alone,  having  lived 
by  myself  so  much  during  the  last  five  years,"  he  replied. 

'•  You  must  be  a  stoic  or  else  a  philosopher.  I  have 
been  listening  to  the  wind,  and  it  has  been  horribly  dismal. 
It  gave  me  the  blues.  I  have  been  just  as  miserable  as  I 
could  be  all  the  morning." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  you  could  have  been  just  a  shade 
more  unhappy,  if  you  had  brought  your  mind  to  bear  upon 
the  question  ? " 

The  absurdity  of  her  remark  flashed  upon  her,  and  she 
could  not  refrain  from  laughing.  The  laugh  and  the  sight 
of  his  cheerful  face  restored  her  drooping  spirits. 

"It  was  so  gloomy  that  I  lighted  the  gas,  but  now  that 
you  have  come  I  will  turn  it  off,"  she  said,  extinguishing 
the  light. 

"  I  always  knew  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  nonsense 
about  me,  but  never  till  this  moment  have  I  thought  of 
competing  with  the  gas  company,"  said  Caleb. 


Moses  Burns  the  Midnight  Gas.  277 

"  Excuse  me,  I  really  did  not  mean  to  make  light  of 
you." 

"  Your  retort  is  most  excellent  for  the  production  of 
light." 

"  O  Mr.  Krinkle,  your  scintillations  are  too  brilliant  for 
me." 

The  sparkling  words  were  sufficient  to  restore  Bertha 
to  her  usual  flow  of  spirits 

"Although  the  day  is  so  stormy,  I  trust  that  it  will  be  a 
pleasant  evening  to  you,  Mr.  Krinkle.  I  have  arranged 
for  a  small  dinner-party,  and  among  the  guests  whom  you 
will  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  will  be  your  old  school 
mate,  Mr.  Meek,"  she  remarked. 

" Indeed  ! " 

She  did  not  say,  "  Moses  informed  me  a  twelvemonth 
ago  that  you  were  low  down  in  the  world,"  but  she  re 
membered  that  when  she  first  saw  Caleb  in  Millbrook, 
he  was  Moses'"  equal  in  every  respect,  and  the  thought 
had  come  to  her  that  it  would  be  natural  for  him  to  be ' 
discouraged  under  the  circumstances  which  surrounded 
him  ;  it  was  her  duty,  therefore,  and  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  encourage  him.  It  occurred  to  her  that  the  object  might 
be  gained  by  inviting  both  to  a  small  dinner-party. 

"  I  am  grateful  to  you,  Miss  Waylancl,  for  your  thought- 
fulness  and  regard  for  my  happiness,  but  I  am  afraid  that 
my  presence  will  detract  from  the  pleasure  of  the  com 
pany." 

He  did  not  say  that  he  did  not  wish  to  meet  Moses;  he 
had  no  objection  on  that  account,  but  thought  it  possible 
that  something  might  happen,  —  or  that  there  would  be  a 
rising  of  ghosts  that  would  make  it  an  unpleasant  occasion 
to  herself. 

"  Your  presence  will  make  it  all  the  more  enjoyable,  I 


278  Caleb  Krinkle. 

am  sure.  Those  who  are  to  be  my  guests  are  my  intimate 
friends  ;  they  all  know  what  a  narrow  escape  I  had  from 
a  terrible  end,  and  they  will  esteem  it  an  honor  to  make 
your  acquaintance.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to 
introduce  you  to  them." 

Caleb  could  not  doubt  that  she  had  arranged  the  dinner 
party  with  the  view  of  helping  him  on  in  the  world,  and 
he  could  not  do  otherwise  than  accept  the  invitation. 

Then  Bertha  sang  and  played.  It  was  no  longer  soul 
less  music,  but  melody  and  harmony  together  filled  the 
house. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

BERTHA'S  DINNER  PARTY. 

A  CARRIAGE  stopped  in  front  of  the  Wayland  man 
sion,  and  the  driver,  sheltered  from  the  storm  by  his 
India  rubber  coat  and  cap,  jumped  down  from  his  seat  and 
rang  the  bell.  Old  Peter  opened  the  door  and  held  an  um 
brella  over  the  head  of  Mr.  Moses  Meek,  Jr.,  as  he  passed  from 
the  carriage  to  the  portico  and  into  the  hall. 

"  I  should  apprehend,  sah,  dat  it  was  very  boistorious  and 
fluergent  out  of  doors  to-day,  sah,"  said  Peter. 

"Very  fluergent  indeed,  Peter.  If  you  had  hunted  the 
dictionary  through  from  one  end  to  the  other,  you  could  not 
have  found  a  more  expressive  word,"  Moses  replied  while 
taking  off  his  overcoat.  He  had  seen  Peter  so  many  times 
that  they  talked  freely  together.  , 

"Tank  you,  sah.  I  try  to  'spress  myself  'cording  to  de 
rules  and  regulations  of  de  dictionary,  and  am  glad  to  know 
dat  I  am  not  altogether  an  ignorant  ramus,  sah,  as  some 
gemmen  in  my  speer  show  themselves  to  be,  sah," 

"Of  course  you  are  not,  Peter.  You  are  an  ornament  to 
society,  and  we  could  not  possibly  get  along  without  you." 

Moses  went  into  the  dressing-room,  took  a  look  in  the  glass 
to  see  if  his  necktie  was  all  right,  and  if  he  had  crumpled  his 
hair  since  leaving  the  barber's.  He  turned  to  the  right  and 
left  to  see  if  there  was  a  wrinkle  in  his  coat  that  needed 

279 


z8o  Caleb  Krinkle. 

smoothing,  and  brush-,  1  his  whiskers  with  a  self-satisfied  air. 
He  then  glanced  around  the  room,  noticed  the  paintings,  the 
superbly  illustrated  volumes  on  the  table,  the  clock  upon  the 
mantle,  and  the  thought  came  to  him  that  it  would  be  worth 
while  to  be  at  the  head  of  such  an  establishment,  to  enjoy 
its  comforts,  to  look  after  the  mortgages,  to  cut  the  coupons 
from  the  bonds.  He  was  only  imitating  the  milkmaid  in  the 
fable,  and  counting  his  chickens  before  they  were  hatched. 

Very  cordial  was  the  greeting  Moses  received  from  Bertha 
when  he  descended  to  the  parlor.  The  worn  and  weary 
look  which  her  friends  had  noticed  when  she  returned  from 
her  winter's  round  of  pleasure  at  Washington  no  longer  rested 
on  her  face,  but  freshness  and  brightness  instead. 

"  Although  it  is  so  stormy,  you  have  the  flush  of  the  dawn 
on  your  cheeks  and  the  light  of  the  stars  in  your  eyes,"  said 
Moses. 

"There,  there,  don't,  please  !  You  know  that  I  haven't," 
Bertha  replied. 

Moses  was  intending  to  say  something  more,  but  the  arrival 
of  other  guests  prevented. 

Notwithstanding  the  storm,  the  guests  did  not  wish  to  fore 
go  the  pleasure  of  dining  at  the  Wayland  mansion.  They 
knew  that  the  Wayland  dinner-parties  were  not  dull  affairs, 
ror  Bertha  herself  had  the  ability  to  make  them  brilliant. 

Among  the  guests  on  this  occasion  were  Judge  Mandamus 
and  Mrs.  Mandamus,  and  there  was  a  large  man,  somewhat 
past  the  middle  of  life,  with  the  crow's-feet  showing  them 
selves  in  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  —  Professor  Linguist.  The 
stupidest  of  parties  could  not  fail  of  being  brilliant  if  he  were 
present.  He  could  speak  a  dozen  languages  with  fluency, 
and  besides  being  a  philologist,  was  thoroughly  versed  in  sci 
ence.  No  matter  what  the  theme  of  conversation,  Professor 
Linguist  was  sure  of  saying  something  that  would  be  instruc 
tive  and  entertaining. 


Bertha's  Dinner  Party,  281 

There  was  a  modest  and  retiring  young  man,  Mr.  Minim, 
a  contributor  to  the  magazines,  who  had  also  written  some 
short  poems  that  had  gone  the  rounds  of  the  newspapers. 
There  were  but  two  young  ladies,  Miss  Whitewood,  an  artist, 
whose  fruit  and  flower  pieces  were  the  admiration  of  all  who 
beheld  them,  and  Miss  Rosenstein,  a  charming  singer  from 
Germany. 

Caleb  was  in  his  chamber.  He  could  see  from  his  window 
the  arrival  of  coaches,  bringing  Bertha's  guests.  As  the 
dinner-hour  approached,  his  heart  began  to  fail  him,  and  he 
wished  he  could  plead  a  valid  excuse  for  not  going  down. 
Not  being  accustomed  to  the  amenities  of  society,  he  might 
expose  himself  to  ridicule  and  be  the  means  of  mortifying 
Bertha.  While  trying  to  hunt  up  an  excuse,  Peter  made  his 
appearance  and  informed  him  that  dinner  was  ready,  and  he 
descended  to  the  parlor,  where  Bertha,  Aunt  Janet  and  the 
guests  were  assembled. 

"  There  is  no  need  that  I  should  introduce  two  old  friends," 
said  Bertha,  as  Caleb  entered  the  apartment  and  stood  face 
to  face  with  Moses. 

Moses  had  not  contemplated  such  a  meeting.  He  had 
not  thought  it  among  the  possibilities  that  Caleb,  though  in 
her  house,  would  be  invited  to  a  select  dinner-party. 

Caleb  bowed,  held  out  his  hand,  and  said,  "  How  do  you 
do,  Mr.  Meek?" 

It  is  not  easy  to  refuse  an  offered  hand,  even  from  one 
whom  we  do  not  like,  and  Moses,  before  he  was  aware  of 
what  he  was  doing,  found  himself  shaking  the  hand  of  his 
old  schoolmate,  and  saying,  "How  do  you  do,  Caleb?" 
He  was  vexed  with  himself  the  next  moment,  however,  for 
having  done  it.  Bertha  presented  Caleb  to  the  other  guests, 
and  he  received  their  hearty  congratulations. 

"  I  esteem  it  an  honor  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  said 


282  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Judge    Mandamus,    "for   it   is   always  an    honor  to  be  ac 
quainted  with  a  man  who  does  a  noble  act." 

Bertha  had  an  individuality  of  character,  that  made  her 
mistress  of  her  own  establishment.  She  had  asserted  her 
rights,  and  Aunt  Janet  had  conceded  them.  She  directed  af 
fairs  about  the  house  and  presided  at  the  dinner-table. 

Peter  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  made  a  low  salutation 
to  his  mistress. 

"Dinner  is  ready,"  said  Bertha;  then  turning  to  Caleb. 
took  his  arm,  saying,  "  May  I  ask  you  to  be  my  escort?" 

Judge  Mandamus  offered  his  arm  to  Miss  Rosenstein  ; 
Professor  Linguist  begged  to  be  allowed  to  escort  Aunt 
Janet,  while  Mr.  Minim,  being  engaged  in  conversation  with 
Miss  Whitewoocl  at  the  moment,  invited  her  to  accompany 
him.  Moses  had  no  alternative  but  to  be  the  escort  of 
Mrs.  Mandamus,  who,  being  rather  hard  of  hearing,  was 
not  very  entertaining  company.  He  bowed  graciously, 
however,  offered  the  lady  his  arm,  and  they  passed  out  to 
the  dining-room. 

Bertha  understood  the  art  of  giving  elegant  dinners,  and 
her  success  did  not  lie  in  the  great  number  of  courses 
served  or  in  strange  compounds  of  food,  but  in  having 
among  her  guests  those  who  would  entertain  the  com 
pany  by  solid  sense  or  the  sparkle  of  wit  and  easy  flow  of 
conversation.  On  this  occasion  Professor  Linguist  enter 
tained  them  while  soup  and  fish  were  being  served  by  giv 
ing  an  account  of  the  festive  scenes  of  the  Romans  in  the 
time  of  Nero. 

"  Mr.  Meek,  I  will  ask  you  to  carve  for  us,"  said  Bertha, 
when  the  next  course  was  brought  in,  —  a  turkey.  Moses 
was  dexterous  in  shuffling  cards,  but  not  with  the  carving- 
knife.  He  had  seen  turkeys  carved  many  times,  but  never 
had  thought  it  worth  while  to  study  the  anatomy  of  the 


Bertha's  Dinner  Party,  283 

fowl,  or  to  notice  particularly  how  it  ought  to  be  dismem 
bered. 

"Please  excuse  me,  Miss  Wayland;  carving  is  not  one  of 
my  accomplishments,"  said  Moses.  But  Peter  had  already 
placed  the  fowl  before  him.  What  should  he  do?  To  re 
fuse  outright  would  hardly  be  respectful,  and  he  could  not 
quite  afford  to  do  any  thing  that  would  lower  himself  in 
Miss  Wayland's  estimation  at  that  moment;  and  yet  his  at 
tempt  to  carve  might  end  in  an  ignominious  failure. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  he  said,  bowing  and  seizing  the 
knife  and  fork.  He  was  not  quite  certain  where  to  begin, 
whether  with  the  legs  or  wings,  but  concluded  to  commence 
with  the  legs.  He  was  not  successful,  however,  in  hitting 
the  joints,  and  unfortunately  soiled  the  table-cloth.  The 
blood  rushed  to  his  face,  and  he  blushed  all  the  more 
deeply  when  he  saw  Judge  Mandamus  watching  his  bung 
ling  efforts. 

"  You  see,  Miss  Wayland,"  he  said,  "  that  I  spoke  truly. 
I  am  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but  really  I  don't  know  how  to 
carve,  and  with  your  permission  I  will  let  Peter  take  it  to 
Mr.  Krinkle.  He  has  had  so  much  experience  in  carving 
for  the  public  that  he  of  course  will  do  it  to  perfection." 

Every  eye  was  turned  toward  Caleb.  Judge  Mandamus 
glanced  first  toward  Caleb  and  then  looked  inquiringly  at 
Moses,  as  if  to  ascertain  what  might  be  the  meaning  of  the 
brutal  thrust.  Miss  Rosenstein,  not  fully  understanding 
the  idioms  of  the  English  language,  stared  in  blank  amaze 
ment,  while  Bertha  bit  her  lip.  None  knew  what  to  make 
of  it. 

Not  a  muscle  of  Caleb's  face  moved.  The  color  did  not 
come  to  his  cheeks,  nor  did  the  blood  go  out  of  them.  He 
waited  for  some  one  to  break  the  silence.  There  were 
years  of  discipline  in  that  one  moment  of  composure. 


284  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Mr.  Krinkle,  may  I  ask  you  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
table?  "  Bertha  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  serve  you,"  was  the  calm  reply. 
Peter  placed  the  turkey  before  him. 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he   said,  •'!  accept  the  honor 
which  Miss  Wayland  has  conferred  upon  me.    The  circum 
stances  of  my  life  during  the  past  few  years  have  been  such 
that  I  have  been  compelled,  while  acquiring  an  education, 
to  earn  my  daily  bread,  which  I  have  done  by  serving  food 
to  others,  and  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  serve  you." 

The  Judge  gazed  upon  him  with  admiration.  He  appre 
ciated  the  manliness  which  Caleb  had  exhibited,  and  said 
to  himself,  "  The  young  man  who  can  make  such  a  speech 
as  that  under  such  circumstances  will  make  his  way  in  life." 
Professor  Linguist,  being  a  naturalist  as  well  as  a  philolo 
gist,  and  knowing  the  anatomy  of  the  fowl,  watched  with 
manifest  signs  of  pleasure  the  skill  which  Caleb  displayed 
in  carving,  and  began  an  interesting  talk  upon  the  anatomy 
of  different  fowls, — the  difference  between  the  bones 
of  a  turkey  and  those  of  a  goose.  He  then  gave  a  disserta 
tion  on  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  and  the  manifes 
tation  of  intelligent  thought  throughout  the  realm  of  nature. 
There  was  no  longer  occasion  for  Bertha  to  bite  her  lip, 
for  Caleb  was  master  of  the  situation,  his  part  having  been 
performed  to  perfection.  In  her  kindness,  she  did  what 
she  could  to  make  it  an  agreeable  occasion  to  Moses,  who, 
with  a  deaf  old  lady  to  be  entertained,  and  his  failure  to 
perform  the  honors  of  the  table,  and  the  consciousness  that 
he  had  made  a  mistake  in  giving  a  brutal  and  uncalled  for 
thrust  at  Caleb,  was  ill  at  ease. 

The  dinner  over,  and  the  party  adjourned  to  the  parlor, 
where  they  were  served  with  coffee.  While  sipping  it,  Judge 
Mandamus  entertained  the  company  with  anecdotes  of  the 


Bertha's  Dinner  Party.  285 

Bench  and  Bar,  and  then  Miss  Rosenstein  sang  and 
played. 

Mr.  Minim,  in  response  to  Bertha's  request,  consented 
to  read  a  few  stanzas  of  his  own  composing. 

"  My  early  life,"  he  remarked,  "  was  passed  in  the  coun 
try,  and  I  have  put  into  verse  some  of  the  recollections 
that  haunt  me.  I  had  a  poem  in  contemplation  once, 
but  it  never  will  be  written ;  these  stanzas  are  but  a 
fragment.  For  want  of  a  better  title  I  call  them  "  Mem 
ory's  Pictures." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  throw  back  the  door, 

And  view  the  treasures  of  departed  hours ; 
To  brush  the  cobwebs  from  the  ancient  lore, 
And  turn  again  the  book  of  gathered  flowers. 

"  How  bright  the  fire,  blazing  on  the  hearth  ! 
What  merry  shouts  fall  on  the  ear  again  ! 
And  little  footsteps  patter  down  the  path, 
Just  like  the  coming  of  the  summer  rain. 

"  I  hear  the  music  of  the  rippling  rill, 

The  dews  of  morn  are  sprinkled  on  my  cheek, 
While  down  the  valley  and  upon  the  hill 
The  laughing  echoes  play  their  hide-and-seek. 

"  I  roam  the  meadows  where  the  violets  grow, 

And  watch  the  shadows  o'er  the  mountain  creep, 
I  bathe  my  feet  where  sparkling  fountains  flow, 
Or  bow  my  head  on  moss-grown  rocks  to  sleep. 

"  Within  those  pleasant  chambers  of  the  past 

Old  pictures  hang  upon  the  pannelled  walls  ; 
And  phantom  forms  are  in  the  twilight  cast, 

While  song  and  dance  are  sounding  through  the  halls. 

"  The  deep-toned  bell  rings  out  the  passing  hour, 

I  hear  its  music  o'er  the  valley  flung  ; 
Oh,  what  a  preacher  is  that  time-stained  tower, 
Reading  great  sermons  with  its  iron  tongue  ! 


286  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  The  old  church  clock,  forever  swinging  slow, 

With  golden  hands  at  morning  and  at  even, 
Points  to  the  sleepers  in  the  yard  below, 
Then  lifts  them  upward  to  the  distant  heaven." 

But  the  carriages  came  for  the  guests,  and  one  by  one  they 
took  their  departure.  Caleb  was  weary,  and  ascended  to  his 
chamber.  Aunt  Janet  asked  to  be  excused,  and  retired  to 
her  room,  leaving  Moses  and  Bertha  alone  in  the  parlor. 
Moses  was  aware  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  at  the  din 
ner-table,  and  wished  to  efface  any  unfavorable  impression 
that  might  have  been  created  in  Bertha's  mind  in  regard 
to  his  character  as  a  gentleman,  and  therefore  exerted 
himself  to  the  utmost.  He  was  affable.  He  could  recite 
poetry  effectively.  His  range  of  reading  had  been  wide, 
and  he  narrated  his  choicest  stories  and  gave  utterance  to 
brilliant  apothegms  and  witticisms.  The  propitious  hour 
which  he  had  anticipated  had  arrived.  They  were  alone. 
The  hands  of  the  clock  were  moving  on  toward  the  mid 
night  hour.  He  flattered  himself  that  Bertha  had  alto 
gether  forgotten  his  momentary  want  of  gentility.  He 
would  broach  the  subject  he  had  in  mind. 

"  Miss  Wayland,"  he  said,  "  may  I  take  this  opportu 
nity  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  Bertha  replied,  thinking  that  possibly  he 
might  wish  to  apologize  for  what  had  occurred  at  the 
table. 

"  I  have  for  a  long  time  felt  an  ardent  desire  to  make 
known  my  special  regards  for  you,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  For  a  long  while  I  have  admired  you,  and,  I  may  say, 
been  an  adorer  of  your  worth  and  beauty." 

Bertha  did  not  listen  altogether  in  amazement,  for  she  had 
heard  gentlemen  at  Saratoga,  Newport,  Washington  and  in 
Boston  make  similar  addresses.  She  knew  what  he  would 
say,  and  fain  would  prevent  him. 


Bertha's  Dinner  Party.  287 

"  Please  do  not  say  any  thing  more,  Mr.  Meek,"  she  said. 

If  he  had  scanned  her  face,  or  but  noticed  the  deprecato 
ry  movement  of  her  hand,  he  would  have  heeded  the  request, 
but  he  proceeded. 

"  Ever  since  we  were  at  Hilltown,  even  from  our  first 
meeting,  I  have  thought  of  you  as  the  one  almost  celestial 
being  who  alone  could  fill  my  life  with  happiness." 

"  Let  us  understand  each  other,  Mr.  Meek,  now  and 
always.  We  are  old  schoolmates  and  friends,  and  that  is  all 
we  ever  can  be." 

"  May  I  never  hope  to  enter  upon  a  more  endearing  rela 
tion?" 

"  We  never  can  be  more  than  friends." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  have  been  deluded  through  all  these 
years, — led  on  by  your  friendship  to  be  rejected  at  the 
last?"  said  Moses  with  bitterness. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Meek,  but  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
encouraged  you  to  think  of  me  as  any  thing  more  than  a 
friend.  I  am  sorry  if  you  have  thought  of  me  in  any  other 
light,  but,  if  you  please,  we  will  dismiss  the  subject  now  and 
forever." 

Bertha  spoke  with  a  deliberation,  decision  and  dignity 
from  which  there  was  no  appeal.  Moses  sat  in  silence,  but 
with  a  flushed  face,  which  grew  in  redness  as  the  silence  be 
came  prolonged.  He  was  confused,  but  Bertha  sat  com 
posedly. 

"  I  bow  to  your  mandate,"  he  said  at  length,  rising  to  de 
part.  Good-evening,  Miss  Way  land." 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Meek.  I  shall  always  be  pleased  to 
see  you  as  a  friend." 

Moses  put  on  his  coat,  and  without  waiting  for  a  carriage, 
went  out  into  the  rain.  His  reflections  as  he  walked  home, 
and  while  sitting  in  his  chamber,  were  very  bitter.  As  on  the 


288  Caleb  Krinkle. 

previous  night,  he  had  played  a  losing  game.  The  great 
prize  he  had  hoped  to  win,  which  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  win,  had  slipped  through  his  fingers.  At  the  dinner-table 
he  had  made  an  ignominious  failure,  while  Caleb  had 
achieved  a  triumph,  and  he  resolved  that  that  beggar  and  up 
start  who  had  thus  crossed  his  path  should  smart  for  it.  But 
in  what  way  ?  He  drank  a  glass  of  whiskey,  lighted  a  cigar, 
and  sat  down  to  think  about  it.  After  reflecting  awhile,  he 
opened  his  writing-desk  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Bell  Blossom. 

It  was  a  chatty  letter,  —  a  very  nice  letter  Bell  thought, 
when  she  received  it,  not  knowing  that  behind  its  apparent 
innocence  was  the  trail  of  the  devil.  What  mattered  it  to 
him  if  in  hitting  Caleb  he  stabbed  Linda  to  the  heart  ? 

Nothing. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

MOSES  COOKS  CALEB'S  GOOSE. 

INDA  sat  in  the  recess  of  the  bay-window  timing  the 

J j  rhythm  of  her  sewing-machine  to  a  song  that  she  was 

singing.  The  humming-birds  came  and  thrust  their  bills 
into  the  blossoms  of  the  scarlet  runners  that  were  climb 
ing  around  the  casement,  and  hovered  a  moment  in  the 
air,  looking  at  her  with  their  bright  eyes  as  if  to  say,  "  We 
thank  you  for  the  privilege,"  and  then  darted  away.  The 
swallows  sat  on  the  window-sill  and  t'.vittered  an  accom 
paniment  to  her  song.  Why  should  she  not  sing,  when  in 
the  drawer  before  her  were  letters  from  Caleb,  which,  like 
the  gospel  of  John,  were  filled  with  promises  and  overflow 
ing  with  love.  These  were  the  sentences  that  lived  in 
memory:  — 

"  Like  a  candle  ever  burning  before  a  holy  shrine,  so  is 
my  love  to  you." 

"  I  think  of  your  love  as  the  light  of  a  star  that  never 
sets." 

"  I  know  a  little  flower  blooming  on  a  distant  hillside 
that  is  sweeter  than  all  the  exotics  in  the  conservatories 
around  me." 

And  the  two  stanzas  which  came  in  one  of  Caleb's  let 
ters  were  ever  in  her  mind  and  on  her  tongue,  for  Linda 
had  set  them  to  a  simple  melody. 
289 


ago  Caleb  Krinkle. 

This  was  the  song  she  was  ever  singing:  — 

"  Oft  as  I  walk  the  crowded  street 

Throughout  the  livelong  day, 
Amid  the  ceaseless  tramp  of  feet 
I  ever  hear  your  true  heart  beat, 
Although  so  far  away. 

"As  roving  ships  return  from  sea 

And  anchor  by  the  shore, 
So  will  I  hasten  soon  to  thee, 
And  blissful  then,  my  love,  shall  be 

Our  lives  forevermore." 

Although  there  were  but  two  stanzas,  they  contained,  as 
it  were,  the  whole  gospel  of  love.  With  such  a  psalm  to 
cheer  and  comfort  her,  she  could  be  happy  all  day  long. 
Her  future  was  without  a  cloud.  All  other  men  in  the 
world  might  falter  when  they  should  be  firm  and  steadfast, 
but' Caleb  would  be  true.  The  rivers  might  cease  to  flow, 
but  his  love  would  abide  forever.  She  was  ever  thinking 
of  his  goodness.  Had  he  not  written  to  her  of  the  friends 
he  had  found  among  the  poor?  And  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
know  that  he  had  shown  his  nobility  in  rescuing  from  a  ter 
rible  death  that  sweet  girl,  Bertha  Wayland. 

Caleb  had  written  her  an  account  of  it  as  soon  as  his 
strength  permitted.  Linda  rejoiced  that  a  Providential 
hand  had  led  him  toward  the  falling  building  at  the  mo 
ment  when  he  was  needed,  and  wished  that  she  could  see 
Bertha,  to  thank  her  for  the  tender  care  she  had  bestowed 
upon  him. 

On  a  bright  afternoon",  Bell,  having  finished  a  game  of 
croquet  with  some  of  her  friends,  called  upon  Linda.  She 
had  received  a  letter  from  Moses,  and  it  contained  some 
information  which  she  could  use  to  advantage  in  teasing 


Moses  Cooks  Caleb's  Goose.  291 

Linda.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  Bell  to  stick  pins,  metaphori 
cal  pins,  into  her  friends,  to  torment  them  a  little,  and 
then  ask  their  forgiveness. 

"  You  can't  guess  who  this  is  from,"  said  Bell,  showing 
the  back  side  of  a  letter. 

"Then  I  won't  try." 

"  It  is  from  somebody  you  know." 

"  Moses  ? " 

"  Yes ;  but  you  can't  guess  what  he  says  about  some 
body," 

"  If  he  says  any  thing  and  says  the  truth,  it  is  that 
somebody  is  good." 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Because  you  always  say  it.  You  think  there  isn't  any 
body  in  the  world  like  Caleb." 

"There  isn't,  to  me." 

"Oh,  you  conceited  thing!  you  think  that  your  jewel  is 
a  real  diamond,  and  that  the  rest  of  us  must  put  up  with 
quartz.  Perhaps  you  will  find  out  that  yours  is  only 
paste." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  not :  Caleb  is  true  and  good  and  noble." 

"  So  you  think ;  but  perhaps  you  will  change  your  tune 
one  of  these  days." 

"  He  has  proved  true  thus  far,  and  how  noble  it  was  in 
him  to  rescue  Bertha  as  he  did  !  " 

"Very ;  but  who  knows  what  may  come  of  it?" 

"  What  may  come  of  what  ?  " 

"Who  knows  but  that  Bertha  may  steal  him  away  from 
you  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that.  She  can't  steal  what  won't  be 
stolen." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,  puss..  Men  are  strange  crea 
tures  ;  they  change  their  minds  sometimes." 


292  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"Caleb  won't  change." 

"Won't  he?" 

"  No." 

"  What  will  you  give  to  know  what  Moses  says  about 
it?" 

"It  will  make  no  difference  to  me,  whatever  he  may 
have  said.  I  am  glad  that  Caleb  rescued  Bertha,  and 
that  he  is  in  her  beautiful  home,  where  he  can  have  the 
best  of  care." 

"It  is  all  very  nice  for  you  to  say  that;  but  just  hear 
what  Moses  says." 

Bell  opened  the  letter  and  read  :  — 

"  Caleb  is  in  clover.  He  couldn't  possibly  have  any  more  atten 
tions  than  he  receives.  lie  has  an  old  white-headed  nigger  to  wait 
upon  him." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  Linda  said. 
Bell  went  on  :  — 

"  Bertha  thinks  that  he  is  a  hero :  that  there  isn't  anybody  in  the 
world  like  him." 

"  And  there  isn't !  "  Linda  exclaimed. 

"She  worships  him.  I  used  to  think  that  I  stood  well  in  Bertha's 
good  graces.  I  flirted  with  her  at  Saratoga  and  Newport,  prome 
naded  and  danced  with  her,  recited  poetry  to  her  by  the  seaside  ;  but 
Caleb  has  cut  me  out.  Who  knows  but  that  we  shall  see  him  as  rich 
asCrcesus?  I  dined  with  Bertha  yesterday.  It  was  a  distinguished 
party:  there  was  Judge  Mandamus,  and  Professor  Linguist,  and  a 
young  poet  who  is  making  his  njark  in  the  literary  world  ;  and  would 
you  believe  it,  Berlha  ignored  (hem  all,  gave  her  arm  to  Caleb,  and 
asked  him  to  do  the  honors  of  the  table !  I  see  plainly  that  it  is  all 
up  with  me." 


Moses  Cooks  Caleb's  Goose.  293 

"Now,  Miss  Confidence,  what  do  you  say  to  that?" 

"I  think  that  it  was  very  noble  in  Bertha  to  hhow  Caleb 
so  much  attention." 

"  Why,  you  are  as  blind  as  a  bat !  Would  Bertha  show 
him  so  much  attention  before  such  a  distinguished  com 
pany  if  she  did  not  mean  something  by  it?" 

Bell  wanted  the  pin  to  prick  just  a  little,  and  it  did  ;  but 
Linda  was  not  at  a  loss  for  a  reply. 

"I  suppose  she  wanted  to  show  the  company  that  she 
was  grateful  for  what  Caleb  had  clone,"  she  replied. 

"  But  gratitude  may  become  something  else.  It  looks 
as  if  Bertha  was  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  Caleb." 

It  was  a  vigorous  push  of  the  metaphorical  pin,  and  it 
went  through  all  the  philosophy  which  Linda  had  wrapped 
around  her  and  left  its  little  wound. 

"  Bertha  may  be  in  love  with  Caleb,  but  I  don't  think 
that  he  will  turn  away  from  me." 

Linda  said  it  with  trembling  lips.  In  a  moment  Bell's 
arms  were  around  her. 

"There,  there,  Little  Maid,  don't  feel  bad  about  it;  you 
know  I  only  said  it  to  tease  you.  Of  course  Caleb  won't 
turn  away  from  you.  It  is  only  some  of  Moses'  nonsense, 
that  I  have  read  to  you." 

So  Bell,  having  inflicted  the  wound,  tried  to  soothe 
away  the  pain,  but  the  wound  was  there  nevertheless. 

"  Now,  Linda  darling,  tell  me  what  I  must  do.:> 

"  About  what?  " 

"  About  Moses.  He  is  coming  home  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  father  and  mother  don't  like  him,  but  he  will  come  to 
see  me  and  will  ask  me  to  ride  with  him.'' 

"  And  you  will  do  it,  because  you  love  him." 

"I  know  it.  I  always  have  loved  him.  Father  says 
that  Moses  isn't  steady,  and  he  don't  want  me  to  have  any- 


294  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

thing  to  do  with  him,  but  how  can  I  help  it?  He  is  hand 
some,  and  he  ain't  so  very  bad,  I  guess,  after  all." 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  am  able  to  give  you  advice,  Bell. 
We  must  each  decide  for  ourselves  what  is  right  and  what 
we  ought  to  do.  If  my  father  and  mother  were  living  I 
should  do  what  I  could  to  make  their  lives  happy.  Are 
you  sure  that  Moses  loves  you  and  is  worthy  of  you  ? " 

"He  says  that  he  loves  me,  and  how  can  I  doubt  him? 
If  he  loves  me,  won't  he  make  my  life  happy  ?  I  know 
that  he  is  a  little  wild,  but  he'll  settle  down  and  be  steady 
enough  by-and-by,  —  they  all  do." 

"No,  not  all,  Bell." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  make  him  steady;  I  am  so  steady 
myself,"  said  Bell  with  a  laugh. 

"  Please  don't  do  any  thing  hastily,  nor  any  thing  that 
you  will  repent  of  by-and-by,  Bell,  that  is  all  the  advice  I 
can  give  you." 

"O  Linda!  I  only  wish  I  was  as  wise  and  good  as  you 
are,  but  I  ain't.  I've  always  had  my  own  way,  and  I  am 
always  doing  some  foolish  thing  or  other  and  then  repent 
ing  of  it,"  Bell  replied,  as  she  took  her  departure. 

At  this  midsummer  season,  when  everybody  who  was 
not  at  the  seashore  was  going  to  the  mountains,  Peter 
Smart  had  no  lack  of  passengers. 

There  came  a  day  when  Moses  Meek  was  a  passenger. 
He  was  polite  to  the  ladies,  helped  them  clown  to  the 
ground  whenever  the  stage  stopped  to  change  horses, 
brought  them  glasses  of  water,  and  raised  his  hat  to  them 
with  great  deference,  and  quoted  Byron,  and  Tom  Moore. 
The  young  ladies  were  sorry  when  he  bade  them  adieu  at 
the  Flying  Eagle :  they  had  hoped  he  was  going  on  to  the 
mountains. 


Moses  Cooks  Caleb's  Goose.  295 

Moses  had  returned  to  Millbrook  to  recruit  his  energies, 
wasted  and  worn  by  sitting  up  late  into  the  night,  engaged 
in  the  study  of  perplexing  law  cases,  —  as  he  would  have 
his  friends  understand.  It  was  not  an  attractive  home  to 
which  he  had  returned.  No  mother  greeted  him.  Mrs. 
Meek  had  packed  her  trunk  and  returned  to  her  father, 
while  Mr.  Meek,  though  living  in  New  Hampshire,  by 
applying  to  the  courts  of  Indiana  had  obtained  a  divorce. 

Having  taken  a  look  at  his  home,  Moses  called  upon 
Bell  for  a  few  moments  and  then  went  up  the  hill  to  pay 
his  respects  to  Linda,  who  was  at  her  sewing-machine 
when  he  entered,  and  did  not  hear  his  step  till  his  hand 
rested  on  her  shoulder. 

"  O  Moses  !  how  you  have  frightened  me.  Where  did 
you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Right  from  the  centre  of  all  creation." 

"  When  did  you  leave  Boston  ?  " 

"  This  morning." 

"  Are  you  well  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well ;  but  rather  tired.  The  profession  of  law 
is  very  exacting.  If  I  had  known  how  hard  it  is,  I 
wouldn't  have  chosen  it." 

"  Bell  told  me  that  you  were  coming,  but  did  not  say 
when.  You  will  spend  some  weeks  at  home,  I  suppose?  " 

"  That  will  depend  upon  circumstances.  Millbrook  is  a 
slow-coach-of-a  place,  but  if  there  is  any  fun  to  be  had, 
I  may  stop  through  August." 

"  Have  you  seen  Caleb  of  late?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  only  last  week." 

"How  is  he?" 

"  Quite  well,  I  thought ;  at  any  rate,  he  was  well  enough 
to  do  the  honors  at  Miss  Wayland's  little  dinner-party." 

"  Bell  read  me  what  you  wrote  about  it." 


296  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"Did  she  read  it  to  you?  then  I  need  not  repeat  It." 

There  was  a  pleased  expression  on  Moses'  face.  His 
plan  had  worked  well.  He  had  written  an  account  of  the 
party  to  Bell  with  the  expectation  that  it  would  be  read 
to  Linda. 

"  Miss  Way  land  evidently  thinks  there  is  nobody  in  the 
world  like  Caleb.  I  half  suspect  that  she  gave  the  dinner 
that  her  particular  friends  Judge  Mandamus  and  Professor 
Linguist  might  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  young  hero, 
who  possibly  may  be  at  the  head  of  her  establishment  one 
of  these  days." 

Linda  \vas  startled.     Moses  saw  it  and  went  on. 

"  At  any  rate,  Caleb  is  in  luck.  There  are  a  score  of 
young  dogs  at  Boston,  to  say  nothing  of  men  old  enough 
to  be  Miss  Wayland's  father,  who  would  give  all  their  old 
boots  to  be  in  Caleb's  shoes  about  this  time." 

"  Of  course  Miss  Wayland  is  grateful  to  him,"  Linda 
remarked. 

"  You  must  use  a  stronger  word,  Linda.  She  loves  him, 
or  else  I  am  mistaken.  From  the  present  indications  it 
would  seem  that  there  is  to  be  a  romance  in  high  life." 

"  Oh,  no ;  Caleb  would  not  be  a  party  to  such  a 
romance." 

"Wouldn't?  eh!  What  a  dear,  honest,  simple-hearted 
creature  you  are.  Linda.  Do  you  not  recall  her  beauty  ? 
and  she  is  more  beautiful  now  than  when  you  last  saw  her- 
You  must  not  forget  that  she  is  very  rich.  There  are  not 
many  men  who  can  turn  away  from  such  attractions. 
Do  you  think  that  Caleb  will  be  an  exception,  especially 
when  he  sees  that  Miss  Way! and  is  ready  to  lay  herself, 
her  wealth,  her  beauty  at  his  feet?  Caleb  an  exception? 
Not  much  !  " 

"  I  think  that  he  will  prove  true,"  said  Linda,  but  her 


Moses  Cooks  CaL'b's  Goose.  297 

hands  were  clasped  upon  her  heart  at  the  moment.  She 
could  not  deny  the  general  truth  of  what  Moses  had  said, 
that  men  are  attracted  by  beauty  and  riches,  though  she 
was  sure  that  Caleb  would  not  be. 

"Time  and  distance  conquer  love,  it  is  said.  Don't  be 
too  sanguine  cf  the  future,  Linda." 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  Caleb  has  changed  in 
his  feelings  toward  me.  He  promised  to  come  to  me,  and 
I  shall  wait  for  him." 

"  I  admire  your  faith  in  human  nature,  Linda,  but  you 
don't  know  it.  Look  at  both  sides  of  the  question,  as  we 
lawyers  say.  On  the  one  side,  matchless  beauty,  great 
riches,  position  in  society,  and  a  girl  dead  in  love  with 
him,  and  on  the  other  —  yourself." 

Linda  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  She  saw  her 
self  a  poor  girl,  earning  her  daily  bread,  and  taking 
care  of  Winifred.  Winifred  !  Perhaps  Caleb  would  think 
of  the  child  as  an  incumbrance  in  the  future.  She  carried 
on  the  contrast  which  Moses  had  held  up  to  her.  If  Caleb 
came  back  to  her  he  would  find  only  a  loving  heart  and 
willing  hands,  nothing  more  ;  but  there  before  him,  held 
out  to  him,  were  ease,  comfort,  riches,  position  in  society, 
and  the  love  of  a  warm-hearted  girl  who  owed  her  life  to 
him.  There  was  a  sinking  of  the  heart  as  she  contem 
plated  it. 

"I  am  sorry,  Linda,  that  you  feel  so  bad  about  it,  but 
disappointments  come  to  us  all." 

Moses  had  accomplished  what  he  had  intended,  and 
took  his  departure.  Nor  was  he  troubled  at  seeing  the 
anguish  of  a  wounded  spirit.  He  had  been  humiliated 
by  what  had  occurred  at  the  dinner-party.  Bertha  had 
rejected  him,  and  if  he  could  by  any  means  destroy 
Linda's  confidence  in  Caleb,  it  would  be  sweet  revenge 


298  Caleb  Krinkle. 

and  a  paying  off  of  old  scores.  There  was  a  sardonic 
smile  upon  his  face  as  he  passed  down  the  street,  saying 
to  himself,  "  I  have  begun  to  cook  his  goose  for  him,  and 
I  mean  to  do  it  up  brown." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   DAY   AT   NAHANT. 

ERTHA  WAYLAND  planned  a  little  excursion  to 
Nahant.  She  thought  that  the  sea  would  invigorate 
Mr.  Krinkle.  At  least,  he  would  have  a  change  of  scene. 
Doctor  Tragacanth  said  it  would  be  an  excellent  tonic. 
The  party  consisted  of  herself,  Aunt  Janet,  Professor  Lin 
guist  and  Mr.  Krinkle,  besides  Peter,  who  was  instructed 
to  put  up  a  lunch,  which  they  would  eat  upon  the  rocks. 

It  was  but  a  half-hour's  ride  to  Lynn,  and  another  half 
hour  by  coach  to  the  long  and  level  beach. 

The  summer  airs  were  blowing  softly.  They  brought 
the  fragrance  of  newly-mown  hay  from  the  fields,  and  min 
gled  it  with  the  odors  born  of  the  cleept  The  mid-day  sun 
threw  down  its  beaming  rays  and  paved  a  wide  and  level 
avenue  across  the  waves  with  silver  light.  A  few  white 
clouds  came  down  from  the  west,  sailed  out  to  sea,  and 
were  lost  to  sight ;  but  landward  or  seaward,  there  was 
nothing  to  mar  the  sweetness,  the  beauty,  the  and  peace  of 
the  perfect  day. 

The  tide  was  out,  and  the  waves  were  spreading  their 
white  fringes  on  the  bleaching  sand,  and  the  coachman 
walked  his  horses  along  the  crescent  shore. 

"  Many  times  have  I  seen  the  sea,"  said  Bertha,  "  but 
never  when  it  was  so  beautiful  as  it  is  to-day.  How  pleas- 

299 


Caleb  Krinkk. 


uni!  I  would  rather  walk  than  ride.  Will  you  keep  me 
company,  Mr.  Krinkle?" 

"With  pleasure." 

They  descended  from    the  carriage  and  walked  alon"- 

O 

the  beach,  while  Aunt  Janet  and  the  Professor,  with  Peter 
on  the  seat  with  the  driver,  went  on. 

"  We  will  join  you  on  the  rocks,"  said  Bertha,  as  they 
whirled  away. 

"The  waves  are  bowing  a  welcome  to  us,"  she  said. 

"And  spreading  their  white  mantles  upon  the  sand  for 
you,  as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  threw  down  his  cloak  for 
Queen  Elizabeth,"  Caleb  replied. 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  don't  think  that  your  comparison  is 
a  good  one,"  said  Bertha,  who  had  a  very  kind  and  gentle 
but  decided  way  of  expressing  her  dissent  upon  any 
subject. 

"  Why,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  Queen  Elizabeth,  by  stepping  on  Raleigh's 
cloak,  walked  dry  shod,  but  if  I  were  to  step  on  these 
white  mantles  I  should  wet  my  feet." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  that,"  Caleb  replied. 

He  had  intendq^  it  for  a  compliment,  and  was  rather 
chagrined  to  find  that  his  allusion  was  rhetorically  imper 
fect. 

"  That  is  not  all.  Raleigh  was  only  a  weak  courtier  to 
a  proud  and  haughty  queen  :  I  am  not  a  queen,  —  only  a 
girl;  and  the  sea,  —  there  is  nothing  to  which  you  can 
liken  it." 

So  his  fine  compliment  was  torn  to  tatters. 

And  so  they  strolled  leisurely,  picking  the  delicate  mosses 
that  had  been  left  on  the  beach  by  the  receding  tide. 
There  was  no  reason  why  they  should  hurry.  An  ambitious 
wave,  as  if  to  show  what  it  could  do,  like  an  athlete  in  the 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  301 

ring,  ran  up  to  catch  her  by  the  feet.  With  a  scream  and 
laugh  she  sprang  away  ;  and  then,  like  a  child  giving  a 
dare,  followed  it  over  the  dripping  sands  as  it  retired,  only 
to  be  chased  again  in  turn.  So  she  played  "  Catch-me-if- 
you-can  "  with  the  sea,  and  was  a  child  once  more. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  good  to  get  away  from  the  crowd,  from 
fashion,  a  little  while,  and  be  myself!  Fashion,  Society, 
Propriety  will  not  let  us  girls  be  ourselves.  Aunt  Janet 
tries  to  make  me  somebody  else,  and  it  troubles  her  be 
cause  I  will  not  be.  I  am  Bertha  Wayland,  and  I  dare 
say  that  there  is  not  another  girl  in  the  world  like  me. 
Now,  Mr.  Krinkle,  if  I  cut  up  any  capers  to-day,  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  I  haven't  had  a  romp  for  a  long 
while,  and  that  I  shall  only  be  showing  myself  just  as  I 
am.'' 

When  a  wave  came  up,  she  gave  him  a  push,  as  if 
to  send  him  into  it,  and  then  apologized  for  being  so  rude. 
She  challenged  him  to  run  a  race.  He  accepted  it  with 
the  intention  of  running  an  easy  gait,  and  letting  her  come 
in  a  trifle  ahead  ;  it  would  not  be  gallant  to  do  otherwise. 
They  ran,  and  though  he  did  his  best,  she  was  at  the  goal 
in  advance  of  him,  her  cheeks  aglow  wit£  the  exhilaration 
of  the  exercise  and  the  victory. 

"I  thought  that  I  should  win,"  she  said,  panting  for 
breath,  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  I  acknowledge  myself  fairly  beaten  ;  you  took  me  by 
surprise." 

He  knew  that  she  had  decision  of  character :  it  was 
manifest  in  her  taking  him  home  to  her  house  at  the  time 
of  his  injury  ;  it  was  manifest  in  her  taking  direction  of 
her  own  affairs  ;  it  cropped  out  in  her  conversations  with 
those  who  called  upon  her.  He  could  but  admire  her 
frankness  in  saying  that  she  was  Bertha  Wayland  and  no- 


302  Caleb  Krinkle. 

body  else  ;  but  her  vivacity  w,as  a  surprise.  He  saw  that 
there  was  energy  and  power  behind  it,  and  understood 
why  it  was  that  Aunt  Janet  could  not  make  her  a  Porgie. 
She  could  only  be  herself.  And  what  a  self  it  was ! 
Peerless  in  her  beauty,  a  star  in  society,  admired,  flattered, 
and  yet  her  own  true  self! 

They  sat  down  upon  the  dry  sand  and  looked  at  the 
shells  she  had  gathered,  and  then  watched  the  ships  that 
were  sailing  past.  They  were  near  enough  to  the  rocks 
to  hear  the  waves  as  they  surged  against  them. 

"Shall  I  recite  to  you  the  most  perfect  sea-song  ever 
written?"  Caleb  asked. 

"  Yes,  please.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  Tennyson's,  and  to  my  way  of  thinking,  there  is 
not  in  literature  a*4ong  of  the  sea  so  perfect  in  all  its  parts 
as  — 

'  Break,  break,  break  ! 
On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  sea.'  " 

"  Oh,  do  recite  it,  please." 

The  waves  were  breaking  at  their  feet ;  they  could  hear 
their  multitudinous  voices  along  the  shore  ;  the  ships  were 
sailing  by  ;  the  boats  were  rocking  in  the  bay ;  they  could 
hear  the  fishermen  shouting  to  their  comrades;  and  so  the 
poem  became  a  reality. 

"  Thank  you  ! "  she  said,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears  at 
the  allusion  to  the  ''touch  of  a  vanished  hand."  She  was 
thinking  of  a  hand  that  had  vanished  —  her  father's. 

"  I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  the  sea  makes  me  sad,"  she 
said.  "I  cannot  comprehend  it.  Its  vastness  and  its 
mightiness  overwhelms  me." 

"  Perhaps  because  it  is  a  type  of  the  Infinite  and  Eter 
nal,"  Caleb  suggested. 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  303 

"When  I  was  at  Hilltown,"  said  Bertha,  "I  used  to  go 
into  the  fields  and  sit  by  a  gurgling  brook,  to  hear  its 
laughter,  but  there  is  no  laughter  here.  There  is  some 
thing  inexpressibly  mournful  in  this  slow  and  steady  beat 
ing  of  the  heart  of  the  sea.  Each  wave  seems  to  say  as 
it  breaks  upon  the  beach,  'I  have  come,  and  now  I  go, 
and  you  never  will  see  me  again.'  They  are  like  the  gen 
erations  of  men  that  show  themselves  for  a  moment  on 
the  shore  of  time  and  then  disappear  in  the  great  oblivion. 
And  then  the  waves  are  so  restless  that  they  weary  me. 
They  are  never  still,  but  ever  hurrying  on,  and  my  life  is 
like  them;  a  hurrying  on,  —  and  for  what?  I  wish  that 
I  had  something  to  hurry  for.  It  makes  me  sad  to  look 
at  them,  because  they  roll  to  some  purpose,  —  they  bear  the 
ships  across  the  sea,  while  I  am  doing  nothing.  If  I  were 
to  disappear  from  the  scene  to-day,  it  would  be  .like  the 
going  down  of  a  freightless  ship." 

She  walked  away  by  herself  down  to  the  verge  of  the 
water,  and  stood  gazing  seaward,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
a  ship  so  far  away,  that  only  by  straining  her  sight  could 
she  discern  the  lessening  sail.  Her  perfect  form  was  out 
lined  against  the  horizon  ;  the  sea-breeze  was  playing  with 
her  hair  and  leaving  its  bright  colors  on  her  cheek. 
Beautiful  always,  but  transcendently  beautiful  was  she  at 
the  moment  to  Caleb,  who  was  still  sitting  upon  the  sand, 
leaving  her  to  enjcy  her  thickly  c^p/ning  fancies.  She  re 
turned,  and  sat  down  again. 

"It  is  gone.  And  so  shall  I  go,  and  whither ?  O  Mr. 
Krinkle,  what  is  the  meaning  cf  this  mystery  of  life? 
Others  enjoy  life,  but  I  do  not.  Others  are  happy,  but  I 
am  not.  My  friends  find  happiness  in  dressing,  in  danc 
ing,  in  society,  but  I  do  not.  I  am  weary  with  it  all,  arid 
want  to  rest.  I  am  tired  of  every  thing ;  even  the  waves 


304.  Caleb  Krinkle. 

tire  me  by  their  restlessness,  and  they  sadden  me  by  their 
measured  beating.  Why  is  it?  Tell  me.  please." 

"I  have  been  thinking,  Miss  Wayland,  of  what  you  said 
but  a  few  moments  ago,  —  that  you  were  hurrying  on  with 
out  a  purpose,  —  and  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  if  you 
were  hurrying  on  for  something  you  would  be  happier  than 
you  are  now." 

"That  is  so.  I  am  sure  that  I  should,  but  I  have  every 
thing.  I  have  more  money  than  I  can  use  ;  I  have  no  in 
centive  to  lift  my  hand  to  any  thing.  Sometimes  I  have 
almost  determined  to  go  down  into  the  kitchen,  and  turn 
Bridget  out  of  doors,  —  who  is  saucy  because  I  am  an  ig 
noramus  in  cooking,  —  and  do  it  myself,  just  for  the  sake 
of  having  something  to  do." 

"Working  among  stew-pans  might  not  be  altogether 
agreeable,  but  possibly  it  would  be  instructive,  and  might 
bring  some  degree  of  pleasure.  There  are  many  young 
ladies  who,  if  they  were  to  turn  their  attention  more  to  the 
practical  and  less  to  the  ornamental  than  they  are  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  would  add  to  their  happiness  and  useful 
ness.  To  me.  one  of  the  saddest  features  of  our  civiliza 
tion  is  the  aimlessness  of  so  many  of  your  sex  in  life. 
Pardon  me  if  it  may  seem  to  be  rude  to  speak  of  it,  but 
so  far  as  I  can  discover,  the  only  aim  of  many  a  }oung 
lady  is  to  obtain  a  husband  who  will  be  able  to  maintain 
her  in  society." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  a  rude  remark ;  you  have  stated  the 
case  fairly,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  us?  " 

"  Let  rne  vary  the  question.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  yourselves  ?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  would  like  to  know?  What  are 
we?  Bridget  is  our  mistress  in  the  kitchen  as  Fashion  is 
in  the  parlor,  and  between  the  two  millstones  the  flour  of 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  305 

society  is  getting  a  hard  grind.  What  help  is  there  for 
us?" 

"  Smash  the  mill." 

"But  how?" 

"If  all  the  ladies  who  don't  know  how  to  work  were  to 
learn,  Bridget  would  no  longer  be  mistress,  but  a  servant ; 
if  they  would  resolve  to  be  independent  of  fashion,  they 
would  no  longer  be  slaves.  I  do  net  mean  that  you  must 
all  go  down  into  the  kitchen  to  work,  day  after  day,  or 
that  you  must  put  on  quaker  costume  and  never  change 
the  style  ;  I  mean  that  freedom  lies  in  the  ability  to  assert 
your  independence.  But  that  alone  would  not  bring  the 
happiness  that  you  are  longing  for.  There  must  be  a 
lofty  aim  to  bring  true  happiness  to  noble  souls.  Now 
what  is  your  aim  in  life  ?  What  can  you  accomplish  with 
your  accomplishments.  I  put  the  question  to  your  sex  — • 
not  to  yourself?" 

"Well,  let  us  see:  we  can  embroider  and  make  tattings 
and  tidies  and  afghans  ;  we  play  the  piano,  sing  and 
dance;  we  play  whist,  read  novels,  and  make  ourselves 
agreeable  generally/'  said  Bertha,  laughing. 

"  You  can  do  all  of  these,  and  yet  are  dissatisfied  with 
your  attainments  !  " 

"No  sarcasm,  please  ;  I  want  a  sober  talk." 

''Dissatisfaction  with  life  has  not  happened  to  you  alone, 
Miss  Wayland.  You  have  doubtless  read  of  the  restless 
ness  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  at  the  court  of  Elizabeth. 
You  remember  that  he  was  the  queen's  favorite,  was  smiled 
upon  by  the  ladies  of  honor,  and  yet  was  as  uneasy  as 
an  eagle  in  a  gilded  cage  longing  to  spread  his  wings  for  a 
heavenward  flight.  But  out  of  that  restlessness  and 
longing  —  out  of  the  resolution  of  that  noble  heart  — 
caine  the  Arcadia.  He  could  not  soar  till  l.c  had  an 
object  in  \iv.v,  high  above  him."  20 


306  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  But  who  of  us  can  write  a  poem  like  the  Arcadia?" 

"If  you  cannot  write  a  pastoral,  perhaps  it  is  in  your 
power  to  rehearse  an  epic  in  real  life  which  will  be  of 
quite  as  much  value  to  the  world  as  a  poem  written  in 
flowing  numbers." 

"  Rehearse  an  epic !  you  are  making  fun  of  my  sex. 
Please  explain." 

"  Most  of  us  have  an  ambition  to  be  great,  to  accom 
plish  something  that  will  win  the  applause  of  the  world, 
forgetting  the  words  of  the  Master,  'Let  him  that  is 
greatest  among  you  be  your  servant.'  There  are  lives 
which  are  poems  more  heroic  than  the  '  Iliad  '  and  nobler 
than  '  Paradise  Lost,'  in  that  they  help  the  helpless  back 
into  Eden.  They  are  beautiful  because  they  are  rehearsed 
out  of  sight  and  far  away  from  the  applauding  crowd." 
Caleb  stopped,  scarcely  knowing  whether  or  not  Bertha 
was  interested,  for  she  was  looking  far  away. 

"Go  on,  please  ;  I  am  like  a  little  child.  I  want  more," 
said  Bertha. 

"There  are  heroes  in  real  life,"  Caleb  continued,  "more 
worthy  than  Agamemnon,  to  be  crowned  with  unfading 
laurel,  and  heroines  in  out-of-the-way  places,  whose  names 
are  never  seen  in  the  newspapers,  more  worthy  of  honor 
than  many  of  those  that  are  emblazoned  on  the  scroll  of 
fame." 

"  Who  are  they,  and  where  shall  I  find  them  ?  " 

"  They  are  those  who  have  the  heart  and  will  to  help 
those  who  cannot  help  themselves.  They  are  angels 
without  wings  ;  not  flying  through  the  heavens,  but  walk 
ing  through  muddy  streets  on  earth,  climbing  narrow 
stairs  to  dirty  attics,  or  descending  into  dismal  dens.  It 
may  be  a  small  service  that  they  render,  but  the  smallest 
is  sometimes  the  greatest.  The  two  mites  of  the  widow 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  307 

were  more  than  all  the  gifts  of  the  rich,  and  that  little 
poem  rehearsed  in  the  porch  of  the  temple  in  Jerusalem 
with  the  carpenter  of  Galilee  for  an  auditor,  will  be  for 
ever  an  inspiration  to  all  who  esteem  goodness  nobler  than 
greatness.  It  was  the  heart,  the  will,  the  devotion  that 
made  it  an  imperishable  epic,  and  whosoever  will  may 
repeat  it.  Did  you  ever  read  the  quaint  old  poem  of 
George  Herbert  ? " 

"  No,  I  think  not." 

"  I  recall  one  stanza,  which,  sometimes,  when  I  am  dis 
posed  to  be  indolent,  I  repeat  to  myself :  — 

'  Fly  idleness,  which  yet  thou  canst  not  fly, 
By  dressing,  mistressing  and  compliment ; 

If  these  take  up  thy  day,  the  sun  will  cry 
Against  thee,  for  his  light  is  only  lent. 

God  gave  thy  soul  brave  wings  ;  put  not  thy  feathers 

Into  a  bed,  to  sleep  out  all  its  weathers.' 

"  Then  there  is  a  stanza  of  a  hymn  by  Macduff  which 
well  describes  the  longing  for  the  unattainecl  which  we 
experience :  — 

'  Earth's  fondest  hopes  and  brightest  dreams 

Are  fitful,  fugitive  and  vain  ; 

The  best  of  its  polluted  streams 

I  only  drink  to  thirst  again.' 

"We  may  drink  forever,  yet  never  be  satisfied,"  said 
Caleb. 

"  Thank  you,"  you  have  given  me  something  to  think 
of,"  Bertha  replied,  still  looking  far  away. 

On  such  a  blissful  day,  with  so  much  peace  in  heaven, 
and  on  earth,  and  on  the  sea,  they  could  not  have  the  beach 
all  to  themselves;  there  were  parties  from  the  villages 


308  Caleb  Krinkle. 

inland,  that  came  in  great  wagons,  bringing  their  dinners, 
to  enjoy  a  day  upon  the  beach.  The  children  paddled  in 
the  water,  and  picked  up  the  shells  brought  in  by  the  tide  ; 
young  men  and  maidens  walked  away  together,  or  sat 
upon  the  sand,  saying  to  themselves,  "  Sweet  as  the  day 
and  peaceful  as  the  sea  shall  be  our  lives." 

Bertha  and  Caleb  watched  the  gathering  crowds  awhile 
and  then  strolled  on  to  the  rocky  headland,  where  Aunt 
Janet,  Professor  Linguist  and  Peter  were  waiting  for 
them. 

"The  sea  air  has  given  me  a  ravenous  appetite,  and 
I  hope  that  you  have  brought  a  good  lunch,  Peter,"  said 
Bertha. 

"Yes,  Miss  Bertha,  I  know  clat  de  sea  is  good  for  a 
cavernous  appetite,  and  I  have  put  in  an  extra  supply." 

"That  is  very  good,  Peter,"  said  Bertha,  laughing. 

"It  couldn't  be  better,"  the  Professor  added. 

"  Tank  you,  sah  ;  I  hope  dat  de  repast  will  meet  wid 
your  'probation,  sah." 

"  It  is  from  caverna,  a  hollow,  a  subterraneous  place," 
said  the  Professor. 

"  Which  must  be  filled,  and,  Peter,  you  may  spread  the 
lunch  on  the  rocks,"  said  Bertha.  "  You  are  a  superb 
caterer,"  she  added,  when  she  'saw  the  tempting  display  of 
cold  chicken,  tongue,  ham,  oysters,  boiled  eggs,  French 
rolls,  relishes,  and  strawberries  for  dessert.  Knowing 
that  Aunt  Janet  was  fond  of  French  coffee,  Peter  had 
kindled  a  fire  of  drift-wood  on  the  rocks,  and  had  put  his 
coffee-pot  on  the  coals,  where  it  was  sending  out  its  appe 
tizing  fragrance. 

"  A  superb  caterer,  you  are,"  said  Bertha,  repeating  it. 

"  No,  Miss  Bertha,  I  never  capered  in  de  suburbs ;  I 
have  always  been  in  de  city." 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  309 

While  partaking  of  the  repast,  a  shadow  fell  upon  them, 
not  of  a  passing  cloud  but  of  a  portly  woman. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Why,  Caleb  Krinkle  !  how  do  you  do?" 

It  was  Mrs.  Gabberly,  who  seized  him  by  the  hand  and 
shook  it  till  Caleb  began  to  think  there  never  would  be  an 
end  of  the  pump-handle  movement. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  !  How  you  have  changed ! 
Well,  five  years  does  make  a  wonderful  difference  in  folks' 
looks  at  your  age,  but  not  much  at  my  time  of  life.  Who 
would  have  thought  of  seeing  you  here  !  But  you  are  in 
good  company,  I  see.  Why,  Miss  Waylancl  !  how  do  you 
do  ?  Perhaps  you  don't  remember  me,  but  I  remember 
you.  I  met  you  at  Caleb's  sugaring  off.  Fin  Mrs.  Gab 
berly." 

All  of  this  was  spoken  before  Caleb  could  find  his  voice. 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Gabberly,  this  is  a  surprise,"  he  replied. 
He  did  not  say  that  he  was  glad  to  see  her,  for  he  was  not, 
under  the  circumstances. 

"  Mrs.  Gabberly,  you  and  your  husband  will  please  join 
us  in  our  lunch,"  said  Bertha. 

"Thank  you.  Of  course  I  had  no  idea  of  getting  my 
dinner  out  here.  We  are  stopping  at  the  hotel  in  Swamp- 
scott.  and  shall  have  dinner  when  we  get  back  ;  but  as  I 
feel  kinder  lank,  and  seeing  that  Caleb  is  an  old  acquaint 
ance,  I  don't  care  if  I  do  take  a  little  bit." 

Peter  supplied  her  with  a  plate,  napkin,  knife  and  fork. 

"I  guess  I'll  do  just  as  the  rest  of  you  are  doing,  squat 
right  down  on  the  rocks,"  she  said,  taking  a  scat. 

"Well,  I  never!  This  beats  rnc !  Strawberries  and 
cream  !  Oh,  my !  The  folks  at  home  won't  believe  a 
word  when  I  tell  them  who  I  met  and  what  I  had  to  cat." 

Mr.  Gabberly  sat  at  a  distance,  and  it  was  only  by  re 
peated  urging  that  he  could  be  induced  to  take  any  thing. 


310  Caleb  Krinkle. 

When  they  had  finished  their  lunch,  Caleb  walked  down 
the  beach  with  Mr.  Gabberly,  and  learned  of  affairs  in 
Millbrook.  There  had  been  many  changes.  Mr.  Meek 
was  making  money  faster  than  ever.  He  was  very  unpop 
ular,  however,  for  he  had  organized  the  Catawampus  Oil 
Company,  and  had  sold  the  stock  to  his  confiding  towns 
men  who  had  money  to  invest.  He  had  pictured  a  golden 
future  for  them.  He  did  not  doubt  that  the  well  when 
sunk  to  the  proper  depth  would  yield  at  least  fifty  barrels 
a  day,  and  perhaps  one  hundred  :  he  had  a  little  of  the 
stock  left,  which  they  could  have  at  par  if  they  subscribed 
at  once;  but  he  would  not  keep  it  any  specified  time,  not 
even  for  his  best  friend.  Mr.  Nubbin  had  put  in  one 
thousand  dollars,  others  had  taken  a  like  amount,  and 
some  even  more.  The  certificates  were  beautifully  printed 
and  pretty  to  look  at,  but  the  well  did  not  flow,  nor  would 
it  if  they  were  to  sink  it  to  China.  The  money  that  had 
been  paid  in  had  gone  mainly  into  Mr.  Meek's  pocket, 
who  had  kept  within  the  pale  of  the  law,  and  there  was  no 
redress  for  the  swindled  stockholders.  The  loss  of  one 
thousand  dollars  so  affected  Mr.  Nubbin  that  he  went  out 
to  his  barn,  climbed  up  to  the  high  beam,  tied  one  end  of 
a  rope  about  it  and  the  other  around  his  neck,  and  gave  a 
jump  out  of  the  world,  leaving  so  much  money  that  Debo 
rah  could  live  a  lady  the  rest  of  her  days. 

Caleb  could  not  quite  rejoice  that  Mr.  Nubbin  was  dead, 
but,  under  the  circumstances,  was  reconciled  to  the  ways 
of  Providence. 

Mrs.  Gabberly  now  joined  Caleb  and  her  husband.  She 
looked  significantly  at  Caleb,  and  nodded  her  head  in  the 
direction  of  Bertha.  Caleb  not  noticing  her  nods  and 
winks,  Mr.  Gabberly  nuclged  his  elbow. 

"  I've  been  talking  with  her,"  she  said.     "  She  ain't  a  bit 


A  Day  at  Nahant.  311 

stuck  up.  She  is  a  beauty,  too,  if  I  ever  saw  one,  and  a 
real  lady.  If  I  was  the  queen  of  England,  she  couldn't  be 
any  politer  than  she  has  been.  And,  only  think,  you  saved 
her  life  !  I  don't  wonder  she  thinks  a  heap  of  you.  She 
said  that  you  was  one  of  the  noblest  young  men  that  she 
ever  saw.  I  thought  it  wouldn't  hurt  ye  any  to  know.  It 
is  a  nice  bed  of  clover  that  you  have  dropped  into,  Caleb, 
and  there  is  no  knowing  what  may  come  of  it.  I  have 
been  thinking  all  along  that  you  and  Linda  would  strike 
up  a  bargain  some  day.  I  know  who  has  been  getting 
letters  from  Boston  ;  but,  oh,  my  !  only  think  of  the  heap 
of  money  that  this  other  one  has  got.  I  sha'n't  blame  you 
a  bit  for  getting  in  there  if  you  can." 

Caleb's  face  flushed  with  vexation,  but  he  could  make 
no  reply  ;  he  could  only  change  the  subject.  He  asked 
how  long  they  expected  to  stay  at  the  beach. 

"  Oh,  only  a  few  days.  We  just  came  down  to  get  re 
vived  a  little.  Husband  has  been  kinder  run  down, 
the  doctor  said  he  didn't  need  physic,  but  rest  and  salt  air 
and  a  diet  of  codfish  and  clams." 

"  I  see  that  my  friends  are  waiting  for  me,  and  I  must 
bid  you  good-bye.  Please  give  my  regards  to  all  inquiring 
friends,"  Caleb  said,  turning  back  to  join  Bertha,  Aunt 
Janet  and  the  Professor,  who  wished  to  take  a  drive  along 
the  beach.  His  brain  was  excited  over  what  he  had  heard. 

"  Your  acquaintance  is  a  very  amusing  and  talkative 
lady,"  said  Bertha. 

"  She  is  an  old  she-dragon  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
vehemence  that  startled  the  Professor,  and  brought  a  peal 
of  laughter  from  Bertha  and  Aunt  Janet. 

"  Please  excuse  me  ;  the  epithet  applied  itself.  She 
has  always  been  looked  upon  as  a  meddlesome  member 
of  society,  and  I  am  afraid  that  she  has  marred  your 
pleasure  for  the  day." 


$12  Caleb  Krinkte, 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  enjoyed  her  ways  and  manners,"  Bertha 
replied. 

They  rode  along  the  beach,  enjoying  the  scene.  The 
sun,  which  at  midday  had  paved  an  avenue  across  the 
waves  with  silver,  had  now  wheeled  into  the  west,  and  was 
flooding  them  with  molten  gold. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  Bertha  exclaimed,  with  the  bright 
ness  and  glory  reflected  from  her  face. 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  sun,  and  the  glory  was  gone. 

"It  is  but  the  same  old  story  —  disappointment  in 
everything,"  she  said,  as  they  rode  on. 

They  reached  home,  and  were  seated  in  the  parlor. 
Though  weary,  Caleb  felt  that  he  had  taken  on  new 
strength  ;  that  the  brain  which  before  had  faltered  at  the 
least  attempt  at  mental  effort,  was  beginning  to  be  itself 
again. 

"Mr.  Krinkle,"  said  Bertha,  sitting  down  by  him  upon 
the  sofa,  "  I  can  not  tell  you  how  happy  I  have  been 
to-day,  but  I  want  to  beg  pardon  for  the  petulant  remark 
that  I  made  when  that  cloud  came  between  us  and  the 
sun.  I  was  disappointed  at  the  moment,  but  the  day  has 
been  one  of  the  happiest  of  my  life,  and  I  owe  it  all  to 
you." 

"  Nor  can  I  ever  express  my  thanks  for  the  pleasure  you 
have  given  me  this  day,  I  already  feel  stronger,  and  I 
shall  be  myself  again  in  a  short  time.  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  in  return." 

"  There,  there  !  don't,  please  ;  the  obligation  is  all  the 
other  way,"  she  said,  bidding  him  good-night. 

In  her  dreams  she  heard  the  waves  ;  they  were  bowing 
before  her  on  the  beach,  coming  like  pilgrims  to  a  holy 
shrine,  offering  their  prayers,  and  this  was  the  burden  cf 
their  supplication:  "Into  Eden  help  the  helpless." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

WHAT   HOPE   AND    FEAR   SAID   TO   LINDA. 

THE  roses  had  dropped  their  petals  to  the  ground. 
August  was  passing  away.  The  swallows  that  had 
twittered  on  the  roof  and  reared  their  little  ones  under  the 
eaves  by  Linda's  window,  were  taking  short  flights,  whole 
families  together,  out  over  the  village,  wheeling  around  the 
steeple  of  the  meeting-house,  to  show  their  mistress  that 
the  little  ones  would  soon  be  able  to  fly  away  to  their 
winter  home  beneath  the  southern  skies.  Sitting  by  her 
window,  Linda  could  look  clown  into  the  valley  and  see 
where  the  mowers  had  passed  over  the  meadows,  cutting 
the  rank  grass,  leaving  the  fields  brown  and  bare,  and  now 
the  farmers  were  reaping  their  grain  and  binding  it  in 
sheaves.  As  she  saw  the  golden  patches  disappear  that 
had  given  brightness  to  the  landscape,  she  said  to  herself, 
"  So  my  hopes  of  life  are  being  cut  down,  and  the  gladness 
is  fading  away." 

Linda  was  troubled  in  spirit,  not  altogether  by  what 
Moses  had  written  and  said,  but  by  Caleb's  silence.  Why 
did  he  not  write  to  her?  Why  no  answer  to  her  letters? 
Was  there  to  be  an  eclipse  of  her  faith  ?  Oh,  if  the  eclipse 
should  come,  how  dark  life  would  be  !  But  it  would  not 
come,  —  never,  never,  never  !  .It  could  not.  Caleb  would 
be  true  to  her.  The  flowers  might  not  blossom,  the  trees 


314  Caleb  Krinkle. 

might  not  put  forth  their  leaves,  the  sun  might  go  behind 
a  cloud  and  never  shine  again,  the  stars  fade  away  and 
disappear  from  the  heavens,  but  his  love  would  never 
change.  So  she  quieted  her  forebodings.  Such  turtle 
doves  as  she  had  been  feeding,  however,  when  once  fright 
ened,  can  never  settle  down  and  be  wholly  at  rest,  but 
are  ever  ready  to  spread  their  wings  for  flight. 

Weeks  passed,  and  still  there  was  no  letter  from  Caleb. 
He  was  well  enough  to  write:  why  did  he  not?  Could 
it  be  that  he  was  going  away  from  her? 

While  Linda  was  thus  lost  in  meditation,  Mrs.  Gabberly 
called. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Linda  ?  I  thought  that  I  would  just 
drop  in  and  let  you  know  that  we  are  at  home  again." 

"  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  time  at  the  seaside,"  said 
Linda. 

"Just  the  splendidest  time  that  ever  was." 

"Did  you  go  to  Hampton  beach  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no :  to  Swampscott.  We  spent  a  whole  week 
there," and  went  in  to  bathe  every  day.  Oh,  my!  isn't  it 
nice  to  have  the  waves  come  kerswashing  over  you,  almost 
taking  your  breath  away  !  " 

"  Did  you  meet  any  old  acquaintances  ?  " 

"  Didn't  we  !  One  day  we  took  a  long  walk,  husband 
and  I,  all  along  the  shore,  clear  over  to  N  ah  ant,  and  who 
do  you  suppose  we  saw  there  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  imagine." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  could  guess  if  you  you  were  to  try 
all  day." 

"  Then  I  will  not  try." 

"  I  never  was  so  struck  in  a  heap  in  all  my  born  clays. 
Would  you  believe  it,  we  stumbled  upon  Caleb  Krinkle  !  " 

"  Caleb ! " 


What  Hope  and  Fear  said  to  Linda,  315 

"  Yes,  and  that  rich  girl,  Miss  Wayland,  and  her  aunt, 
and  Professor  somebody  or  other,  with  a  nigger  to  wait  on 
'em.  They  had  such  a  dinner  !  oh,  my  !  spread  out  o;r  the 
rocks.  But  I  must  say  that  Miss  Wayland  is  polite,  if  she 
is  rich,  and  as  well  behaved  as  if  she  was  poor.  She 
asked  me  and  husband  to  take  hold  and  help  ourselves. 
They  had  chicken,  tongue,  ham,  boiled  eggs,  and  all  sorts 
of  fixin's,  —  strawberries  and  hot  coffee.  Oh,  my  !  it  was 
the  best  coffee  I  ever  tasted,  if  the  nigger  did  make  it." 

"  How  did  Caleb  seem  to  be  ?  " 

"  He  seemed  to  be  able  to  eat  just  as  well  as  the 
rest  of  us,  but  said  that  his  head  wasn't  right,  and  that  he 
couldn't  do  any  work." 

"  Did  he  ask  any  thing  about  what  was  going  on  up 
here  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  and  husband  had  a  long  talk." 

"  Did  he  say  any  thing  about  coming  up  this  summer  ? M 

"  No.  He  said  he  must  get  back  to  work  as  soon  as  he 
could.  I  had  a  real  nice  talk  with  the  girl.  She  thinks 
there  ain't  nobody  in  the  world  like  Caleb.  She  said  that 
he  was  the  noblest  young  man  that  ever  was.  I  told 
Caleb  he  was  in  luck,  and  I  guess  he  is.  She  is  as  hand 
some  as  a  picter,  and  has  got  such  a  heap  of  money  !  Oh, 
my  !  a  million,  Moses  says.  I  used  to  think,  Linda,  that 
you  and  Caleb  would  hitch  horses  sometime  or  other,  but 
I  reckon  that  he  can  get  rich  all  of  a  sudden  if  he  wants 
to.  But  never  mind  ;  there  is  just  as  good  fish  in  the  sea 
as  ever  were  caught." 

Mrs.  Gabberly  had  only  run  in  to  stop  a  moment.  She 
was  calling  upon  her  neighbors  to  let  them  know  she  was 
at  home  again,  and  took  her  departure. 

Tears  upon  Linda's  cheeks ;  her  heart  in  wild  commo- 


316  Caleb  Krinkle. 

tion.  More  bare  and  brown  now  the  stubble  fields ;  the 
swallows  all  gone,  and  the  turtle-doves  fluttering  in  the  air. 

Weary  the  day,  lonely  the  night.  Could  it  be  that 
Caleb,  after  all,  had  proved  untrue?  Had  he  been  capti 
vated  by  a  beautiful  face,  a  loving  heart,  and  glittering 
gold  ?  Through  the  long  and  weary  night  Hope  and  Fear 
discussed  the  question. 

Fear.     "  Miss  Wayland  is  rich,  and  who  is  there  among 

i  fj 

men  that  does  not  care  for  money  ?  Men  scheme  and 
labor  to  obtain  wealth  ;  sit  up  nights,  burning  life's  can 
dle  at  both  ends  ;  make  themselves  old  in  the  prime  of  life  ; 
stake  all  on  a  single  speculation,  —  on  the  cast  of  the  dice; 
barter  honor,  virtue,  and  every  thing  worth  living  for,  to 
secure  it.  They  gamble,  fight  and  die  for  it." 

Hope.  "  Caleb  would  not  do  it.  Has  he  not  had  some 
thing  nobler  in  view?  Has  he  not  denied  himself  of 
every  comfort  that  he  might  obtain  an  education?  Has 
he  not  cast  every  thing  else  behind  his  back  in  order  to 
secure  it  ? " 

Fear.  "  But  now  riches  are  before  him  :  by  reaching  out 
his  hand  he  can  take  them,  and  so  secure  all  that  he  has 
longed  for  beside.  For  him  no  more  sleepless  nights  and 
weary  plodding  through  the  days.  Is  Caleb  so  different 
from  other  men  that  he  will  not  take  the  gift?  Is  he  so 
unselfish  that  he  will  turn  his  back  upon  wealth  and  come 
to  a  poor  girl  who  has  only  herself  to  give  him  ?  " 

Hope.  "  But  he  is  noble-hearted.  It  cannot  be  that 
he  is  actuated  by  mercenary  motives.  It  would  not  be 
like  him." 

Fear.  "  Bertha  is  very  beautiful.  Men  worship  beauty. 
They  press  the  rose  to  their  lips,  inhale  its  fragrance,  wear 
it  near  the  heart,  but  who  among  them  sees  any  beauty  in 
a  plain  wayside  ilower !  They  pluck  the  one  and  pass  the 
other  bv." 


IVhat  Hop-  and  Fear  Said  to  Linda.  317 

Hope.  "  Did  not  Caleb  see  in  the  wayside  flower 
something  that  charmed  him,  before  the  days  of  adversity 
came  to  him?  He  could  have  chosen  Daisy  or  Bell,  or  a 
dozen  others,  but  he  passed  them  by  and  came  to  the 
blacksmith's  humble  home,  to  find  the  one  he  loved. 
Perhaps  he  loves  her  still." 

Oh,  the  inspiring  thought  !  If  she  could  be  sure  of  it  — 
if  she  could  but  know  beyond  all  doubt  that  it  was  so,  she 
could  wait  forever!  Terrible  the  suspense.  Then  Fear 
took  up  the  question  again. 

Fear.  "Miss  Way! and  is  a  star  in  society.  Learned 
men  sit  at  her  table,  while  Dan  and  his  mother  and  Wini 
fred  sit  at  mine.  Winifred  !  Perhaps  Caleb  thinks  that 
if  he  were  to  marry  you  she  would  be  a  hindrance  to  him." 

What  answer  will  you  make  to  this,  O  Hope,  so  sweet 
and  fair  and  full  of  charity  ?  Hope  had  nothing  to  say, 
and  Fear  went  on. 

Fear.  "  Caleb  saved  her  life,  and  in  her  gratitude  she 
kneels  at  his  feet,  and  gives  herself  and  all  that  she  has 
to  him." 

Hope.  "  But  did  not  Linda  do  what  she  could  to  bring 
him  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  pond  ?  " 

Fear.     "That  was  so  long  ago  he  has  forgotten  it." 

Hope.  "  A  true  heart  does  not  so  soon  forget.  One 
has  not  forgotten  it.  I  am  sure  that  Bertha's  love  can 
never  be  truer  than  Linda's  has  been." 

Fear.     "One  letter  only  has  Caleb  written." 

Hope.  "  Perhaps  his  letters  have  miscarried ;  or  per 
haps  he  has  not  been  able  to  write." 

Fear.  "  That  is  not  probable.  And  what  will  you  say 
to  Moses'  story?" 

Hope.  "  Maybe  Moses  is  prejudiced.  He  never  liked 
Caleb." 


318  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Fear.  "Mrs.  Gabberly  has  seen  Caleb  and  Bertha  at 
the  beach.  What  will  you  say  to  her  testimony  ?  " 

Hope.  "  I  did  not  think  that  Caleb  could  be  false. 
God  forgive  him  !  " 

Thus  so  deep  was  Linda's  love,  that  even  though  Caleb 
might  be  going  away  from  her,  she  could  ask  God  to  bless 
him. 

The  late-rising  moon  looked  in  upon  her,  as  we  in  pity 
sometimes  gaze  upon  friends  in  distress,  though  powerless 
to  help  them.  The  night  winds  moaned  in  sympathy,  as 
if  to  comfort  her  in  her  sorrow.  She  saw  a  bright  star 
that  had  been  beaming  through  the  night,  growing  dim  as 
it  sunk  into  the  haze  of  the  horizon,  and  in  like  manner 
the  star  that  had  led  her  on  was  going  down,  and  it  would 
rise  no  more.  O  deceived  and  wounded  heart,  God  help 
thee ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
MR.  MEEK'S  LITTLE  GAME. 

MR.  MEEK  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  very  well 
preserved.  Other  men,  not  older  than  himself, 
were  turning  gray,  but  the  gray  hairs  did  not  show  them 
selves  in  his  whiskers.  If  by  chance  any  made  their 
appearance  while  he  was  asleep,  they  were  plucked  up  by 
the  roots  with  a  pair  of  tweezers  every  morning,  as  he 
stood  before  the  looking-glass.  Mr.  Meek  did  not  intend 
to  let  Time  get  ahead  of  him.  He  would  keep  the  Old 
Fellow  at  bay.  But  he  was  a  disappointed  man.  Things 
were  not  going  as  he  had  planned  them.  He  had  accu 
mulated  a  fortune,  and  money  was  pouring  in  upon  him  so 
fast  that  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  it.  It  was  not 
the  whole  of  his  plan,  however,  to  get  rich;  he  had 
mapped  out  a  future  for  Moses.  He  had  expected  great 
things  from  his  son ;  had  hoped  to  see  him  making  mas 
terly  pleas  before  the  courts  ;  elected  to  the  legislature ; 
a  candidate  for  Congress  ;  and  performing  a  grand  part 
in  life  that  would  reflect  honor  upon  himself.  But  Moses 
had  not  accomplished  any  thing  ;  he  knew  how  to  spend 
money,  and  that  was  all. 

Mr.   Meek's  home  was  not  attractive,  for  although  his 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  Tansey,  looked  after  his  domestic  affairs, 

319 


320  Caleb  Krinkle. 

an  old  lady  of  sixty,  fat  and  wrinkled,  jarring  the  house  with 
her  slow  and  heavy  step,  and  who  dropped  asleep  in  her 
chair,  was  not  entertaining  company.  Mr.  Meek  could  not 
resist  the  conviction  that  Time  was  cheating  him  out  of  the 
pleasures  that  lightly  belonged  to  him.  The  thought  was 
not  a  pleasant  one.  He  had  not  enjoyed  much  happiness 
in  life,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  if  he  was  going 
to  get  what  was  due  him,  to  collect  his  debts,  as  it  were,  of 
the  Old  Fellow  who  was  going  about  with  a  scvthc  and  an 

O  O  ' 

hour-glass,  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  about  it. 

The  flowering  of  the  almond  tree,  to  use  an  oriental 
figure,  is  supposed  to  be  indicative  of  wisdom,  the  period 
in  life  when  the  judgment  controls  the  actions;  but  Mr. 
Meek  resolved  that  the  almond  tree  should  not  flourish  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned.  He  would  pull  out  every  white- 
ening  hair  in  his  whiskers,  and  color  those  that  made  their 
appearance  in  his  head ;  he  would  be  a  young  man  and 
marry  a  young  wife. 

He  had  been  a  close  observer  of  every  thing  and  every 
body  in  Millbrook,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  one  lady  in  the  town  worthy  to  be  any  man's 
wife.  She  had  already  shown  her  ability  to  make  her  way 
in  the  world.  She  was  not  rich,  and  hers  was  a  small  and 
unpretending  home,  but  she  had  made  it  a  palace  of 
beauty.  He  had  watched  her  from  day  to  clay  as  she 
came  into  the  post  office  or  the  store  to  trade,  and  he  was 
charmed  by  her  ease  and  grace  and  womanhood.  Of  all 
the  ladies  of  his  acquaintance,  there  was  not  one  to  be 
compared  to  Linda  Fair. 

She  was  twenty- three,  while  he  was  only  forty-five  years  of 
age.  He  could  offer  her  a  splendid  home  and  abundant 
wealth.  She  would  have  every  want  gratified..  Little  Golden 
Locks  would  be  their  child.  It  was  an  enchanting  picture. 


Mr.  Meek's  Little  Game.  321 

Linda  \vas  sitting  at  her  sewing-machine,  but  how  wearily  it 
went  !  The  something  that  had  kept  it  humming  so  merrily 
from  morn  till  night  had  dropped  out  of  her  life.  The  nights 
were  more  wearisome  than  the  days.  Though  her  hopes 
were  dead  and  buried,  their  ghosts  were  abroad ;  they  came 
into  her  chamber  and  peered  at  her  in  the  darkness. 

"  I  will  build  a  solid  wall  between  the  present  and  the 
past,"  she  said,  with  a  firm  resolution,  but  before  she  was 
aware  there  were  tears  upon  her  pillow.  The  water  soaked 
through  the  masonry  and  undermined  the  structure.  Though 
Caleb  had  deserted  her  there  was  one  comfort  left  — 
Winifred.  And  now  she  could  understand  why  it  was  that 
the  dear  child  came  floating  down  the  river  on  that  terrible 
morning ;  why  she  came  to  her  arms.  She  said  to  her 
self,  — "  God  saw  that  the  time  would  come  when  I 
should  .need  her.  He  looked  ahead  and  planned  the  pat 
tern  of  my  life,  and  laid  the  warp  and  woof  of  it.  For 
Winifred  I  will  live  and  labor." 

She  was  thinking  thus,  when  Mr.  Meek  made  his  appear 
ance  in  the  half-opened  door. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Linda.  It's  a  very  charming  eve 
ning,"  he  said,  bowing. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant,"  Linda  replied,  rising  to  give  him  a 
seat. 

"  It  was  so  charming  that  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  take  a  walk,  and  drop  in  and  see  your  pleasant  home. 
Really,  you  make  it  a  palace  by  your  genius  and  art,"  said 
Mr.  Meek,  looking  round  upon  the  flowers. 

"  I  believe  in  having  a  pleasant  home." 

"  It  is  the  pleasantest  in  town,  and  then  you  have  Winifred 
to  fill  it  with  sunlight.  I  do  not  see  her  around." 

"  She  has  gone  to  play  with  the  neighbors'  children." 

"  The  child  has  captivated  me  completely,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"She  has  very  winning  ways/'  Linda  replied.          21 


3? 2  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  Mrs.  Dishaway  is  well,  I  hope?  " 

''  I  presume  so,  but  she  is  not  at  home." 

Mr.  Meek  did  not  express  any  regret  over  the  intelligence  ; 
lie  was  pleased  to  hear  it,  rather. 

"  I  have  dropped  in  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  about 
Winifred.  I  want  to  consult  with  you  about  her  future,"  he 
said. 

"  I  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say,"  was  the  reply 

Mr.  Meek  was  an  observant  man,  and  was  accustomed  to 
weigh  words.  He  noticed  that  Linda  did  not  say,  "  It  will 
give  me  pleasure  to  hear  you."  There  was  a  quiet  reserve 
and  decision  in  her  words,  and  in  her  manner  of  speaking, 
that  set  him  to  thinking  it  would  be  well  to  approach  the 
subject  circumspectly. 

"  You  may  have  observed,  Miss  Linda,  that  I  have  always 
taken  considerable  interest  in  the  child,  and  I  will  say  to  you 
what  I  never  have  said  to  any  one  else.  If  my  home  had 
been  different  from  what  it  was,  I  should  have  adopted  her 
at  the  outset;  but  you,  and  all  the  world  now  know  — 
though  perhaps  you  did  not  know  it  then  —  that  my  home 
was  no  place  for  her.  It  was  better  that  she  should  fall  into 
your  hands.  Even  if  her  own  mother  had  lived,  perhaps  she 
could  not  have  done  any  better  by  her  than  you  have  done." 

"  I  have  tried  to  train  her  up  rightly." 

"  And  you  could  not  have  done  better.  Your  training  has 
been  perfect,  Miss  Linda.  But  what  I  want  to  say  is,  that  I 
have  a  strong  desire  to  see  her  have  every  possible  means  of 
obtaining  an  education." 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  give  her  all  needful  advantages." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  Everybody  knows  that  you  are 
ready  to  work  your  fingers  off  for  Winifred,  but  I  would 
gladly  save  you  from  such  toil.  I  would  like  to  assist  you  ; 
in  fact,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  give  her  an  education — the 
very  IK-SI  ihat  can  be  had." 


Mr.  Meek's  Little  Game.  323 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Meek,  but  Winifred  has  so  en 
deared  herself  to  me,  that  I  could  not  think  of  permitting 
any  one  else  to  educate  her.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  work 
for  those  we  love." 

"  Most  certainly ;  never  was  there  a  truer  word  spoken, 
and  for  that  very  reason  I  want  to  be  a  participant  in  your 
pleasure.  We,  together,  will  educate  the  child ;  we  will  be 
unitedly  interested  in  her  welfare.  I  have  such  a  strong 
personal  interest  in  her,  I  really  feel  that  I  cannot  be  denied 
the  privilege." 

"The  words  " personal  interest,"  which  he  had  used  on 
another  occasion,  the  same  that  had  been  used  by  the  writer 
of  the  anonymous  letters,  set  Linda  again  to  thinking. 

"What  may  be  your  desires  or  intentions,  Mr.  Meek?" 
Linda  asked,  determined  to  know  exactly  what  he  was  driv 
ing  at. 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  I  have  already  made  you  my 
confident,  by  alluding  to  the  unhappy  state  of  affairs  in  my 
family,  but  I  am  happy  to  say  that  they  no  longer  exist,  and 
now  nothing  would  so  gladden  my  heart  as  to  hear  Winifred 
call  me  father.  In  brief,  and  to  be  explicit,  I  should  like  to 
adopt  her." 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  think  of  giving  her  up,  Mr.  Meek ;  I 
could  not  make  such  a  sacrifice.  She  has  so  entwined  her 
self  around  me,  —  so  taken  hold  of  my  being,  that  I  could 
lay  down  my  life  for  her.  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness, 
but  I  could  not  think  of  complying  with  your  request." 

Mr.  Meek -heard  the  words,  and  weighed  them  before 
replying.  • 

"  All  honor  to  you,  my  dear  Miss  Linda.  Such  sentiments 
can  come  only  from  a  true  heart.  You  are  so  kind,  so  frank, 
so  good,  that  I  am  encouraged  to  say  what  I  have  had  in 
mind  during  the  past  months." 


324  Caleb  Krinkle. 

He  had  been  sitting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  but 
moved  his  chair  nearer  —  almost  to  her  side. 

"  You  know,  my  dear  Miss  Fair,  that  I  was  very  unfortu 
nate  in  my  marriage  relations,  and  that  I  have  not  had 
much  happiness  in  life.  I  am  lonely.  There  is  no  one  to 
care  for  me  ;  but  if  I  could  only  have  that  dear  child  in  my 
house  ;  if  I  could  but  hear,  through  the  days,  the  music  of 
her  voice  ;  if  I  could  but  see  the  one  who  has  been  a  mother 
to  her,  there  also,  —  if  I  could  but  call  you  both  mine,  —  if  I 
could  but  hear  Winifred  call  you  mother  and  myself  father, 
I  should  be  supremely  happy.  I  have  come,  my  dear  Miss 
Fair,  to  offer  you  such  a  home." 

He  spoke  with  a  low,  faltering  voice,  and  reached  out  his 
hand  as  if  to  take  her  own,  but  Linda  folded  her  arms  and 
looked  him  in  the  face.  If  there  was  a  slight  fluttering  of 
her  heart,  it  was  not  from  fear,  but  surprise.  She  was  about 
to  reply,  but  he  went  on  : 

"  I  see  that  this  declaration  is  very  unexpected  to  you,  but 
please  take  time  before  making  a  reply,  and  think  it  over." 

\  "  I  am,  as  you  have  said,  Mr.  Meek,  very  much  surprised 
at  this  declaration  on  your  part,  but  there  is  no  need  that  I 
should  take  time  to  consider  it ;  I  never  should  have  but  one 
reply.  I  never  could  give  you  an  affirmative  answer." 

"  Perhaps,  if  you  were  to  consider  the  advantages  and 
benefits  that  would  come,  not  only  to  yourself,  but  to  Wini 
fred, —  a  good  home,  abundant  means,  educational  privi 
leges,  position  in  society,  to  say  nothing  of  what  money  will 
do,  and  of  the  comforts  it  will  bring,  —  if  you  were  to  see 
the  question  in  all  its  aspects,  you  might  come  to  a  different 
conclusion." 

"  I  know,  Mr.  Meek,  that  you  have  a  fine  mansion  for  a 
home,  and  that  you  have  abundant  means  ;  I  do  not  de 
spise  money,  nor  do  I  wish  to  appear  insensible  to  the  ad- 


Mr,  Mcck's  Little  Game,  325 

vantages  you  hold  out  for  the  future  of  Winifred,  but  I  am 
just  as  able  to  make  a  final  decision  now  as  I  ever  shall 
be." 

"  Please  allow  me  to  ask  you  to  reserve  your  decision 
for  a  few  days." 

"  No,  Mr.  Meek,  I  do  not  wish  ever  to  think  of  it  again. 
The  question  is  settled  forever,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

Mr.  Meek  bit  his  lip.  He  did  not  bow  quite  so  defer 
entially  as  when  he  entered  the  apartment.  He  sat  in 
silence  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting,  but  evidently  concluded 
that  he  might  as  well  say  what  he  had  in  mind  then,  as 
well  as  at  another  time. 

"  Miss  Fair,  my  affections  have  so  gone  out  toward 
Winifred  that  I  must  have  her  near  me.  My  own  happi 
ness  is  involved,  and  though  there  is  a  disparity  of  years 
between  us,  I  can  be  a  kind  husband  to  you.  I  can  love 
you  with  all  the  strength  of  my  manhood.  I  must  have 
both  of  you  near  me.  I  have  Winifred's  well-being  very 
much  at  heart,  and  will  do  every  thing  possible  for  your 
happiness  as  well  as  for  hers." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  your  honorable  intentions,  Mr.  Meek  ; 
but  I  cannot  change  my  decision." 

Mr.  Meek  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say.  He  was  cha 
grined,  for  he  had  not  expected  such  a  rebuff.  His  vanity 
was  wounded,  but  he  could  not  think  of  giving  up  the  suit 
he  had  begun.  He  must  win  the  girl  who,  by  the  very  re 
fusal  of  his  offer,  had  inflamed  him  all  the  more.  There 
was  still  an  argument  which  he  had  not  advanced.  He 
did  not  wish  to  bring  it  forward  if  he  could  avoid  it,  for 
while  it  would  be  potent,  it  would  not  be  quite  agreeable. 
Should  he  make  it?  He  hesitated,  for  behind  it  was  a 
shadow,  —  a  ghost  that  had  been  walking  the  earth,  — 
seen  only,  by  himself  thus  far,  and  possibly  by  the  wife 


326  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

from  whom  he  had  been  divorced.  His  neighbors  most 
familiar  with  his  affairs  never  mistrusted  that  a  spectre 
was  ever  shadowing  his  footsteps,  and  if  they  should 
happen  to  discover  it,  what  a  hurly-burly  there  would  be 
in  Millbrook! 

After  sitting  in  silence  a  moment,  Mr.  Meek  took  coun 
sel  of  his  hopes,  concluding  that  the  spectre  would  not 
reveal  itself. 

"  Perhaps,  Miss  Fair,  you  may  never  have  thought  of 
the  fact  that  you  have  no  legal  claim  to  Winifred." 

"Who  has,  if  I  haven't?"  Linda  asked. 

"  The  child's  status  under  the  law  never  has  been  passed 
upon.  At  present  she  is  nobody's  child.  You  perhaps 
know  that  I  am  president  of  the  savings  bank,  and  of 
course  am  aware  that  there  is  a  sum  of  money  on  deposit 
in  trust  for  Winifred.  The  child  has  no  guardian,  and  it 
may  be  necessary  to  have  one  appointed,  especially  as  it 
is  my  purpose  to  add  a  considerable  sum  to  the  amount 
already  in  the  bank." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  for  they  were  searching  eyes 
that  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face.  But  having  begun, 
Mr.  Meek  concluded  to  go  on. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  Miss  Fair,  that  if  I  apply  to  the 
court  to  be  appointed  guardian  to  Winifred,  the  judge  will 
grant  my  request.  Yet  please  do  not  think  for  a  moment 
that  I  want  to  take  her  away  from  you.  On  the  contrary, 
I  want  you  still  to  be  as  a  mother  to  her.  Pardon  my 
frankness." 

What  a  revelation  was  this !  A  faintness  came  over 
Linda  for  a  moment.  Her  keen  perception  and  vigorous 
intellect  comprehended  the  situation. 

"  Be  my  wife  or  give  up  Winifred,"  was  expressed  in 
the  smile  upon  his  face.  She  could  also  read  -it  in  his 


Mr.  MeeKs  Little  Game.  327 

manner.  He  could  play  with  her  as  the  cat  plays  with  a 
mouse  before  devouring  it.  He  was  diabolical  in  his 
politeness. 

By  a  heaven-born  instinct  that  had  always  made  him 
repulsive  to  her,  and  a  perception  sharper  and  truer  than 
reason,  she  read  him  on  the  instant,  saw  his  motives,  aims 
and  ends.  As  the  lightning's  flash  at  the  midnight  hour 
reveals  all  the  landscape,  so  she'saw  his  plan. 

Natures  refined  and  purified  as  was  hers,  intuitions  as 
true,  and  intellects  as  keen,  are  never  wanting  in  resolu 
tion.  The  law  would  be  his  ally,  the  court  would  aid  him 
to  carry  out  his  plan,  and  yet,  seeing  all  this,  the  nobility 
of  her  nature  asserted  itself  in  all  its  majesty.  Not  for  an 
instant  did  she  falter.  She  rose  and  stood  before  him,  a 
queen  in  her  dignity  and  righteous  indignation. 

"  Mr.  Meek,  I  have  heard  what  you  have  said,  and  un 
derstand  it.  You  ask  me  to  marry  you,  you  threaten  to 
take  away  Winifred  if  I  will  not,  and  you  will  invoke  the 
law  to  compel  me  to  do  one  or  the  other.  I  have  only  to 
say  that  I  will  not  be  your  wife  and  I  shall  do  what  I  can 
to  prevent  you  from  taking  Winifred  from  me." 

[f  an  earthquake  had  rumbled  beneath  his  feet  Mr. 
Meek  could  not  have  been  more  astonished  than  he  was 
at  that  moment.  He  had  not  counted  upon  such  a  reply ; 
it  had  not  been  an  element,  not  even  a  possible  contin 
gency,  in  his  calculations.  He  had  laid  a  fortune  at  the 
feet  of  a  poor  girl  and  she  had  spurned  it.  He  had  calcu 
lated  that  she  would  hesitate,  would  say  that  she  did  not 
care  about  getting  married,  but  at  last  would  gracefully 
yield.  Or,  if  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  accept 
him,  she  would  perhaps  shed  a  few  tears  over  the  prospect 
of  losing  Winifred.  He  had  seen  women  weep  and  men 
bluster,  but  never  before  had  he  come  in  contact  with  a 


Caleb  Krinkle. 

\'.\\  who  was  so  nearly  allied  to  the  angels  that  she  could 
( onfront  him  as  the  archangel  confronted  Satan. 

Liricla  stood  before  him  majestic  in  her  indignation, 
with  a  glory  on  her  face  such  as  sometimes  shines  upon 
the  human  countenance  when  a  soul  is  moved  by  an  im 
pulse  wholly  divine. 

"  You  have  my  answer,  sir,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Meek  arose,  with  shame  and  confusion  in  every 
feature.  Though  confounded,  he  was  not  forgetful  of  his 
power  to  compel  her  to  be  his  wife  or  give  up  Winifred. 

"I  will  be  frank  with  you,  Miss  Linda,"  he  said,  polite 
as  ever.  "  I  will  not  urge  you  to  a  union  that  would  not  be 
congenial  to  you,  but  I  trust  you  will  not  think  it  strange 
if  I  take  measures  to  become  Winifred's  guardian,  and 
you  know  me  well  enough  to  understand  that  I  usually 
accomplish  what  I  undertake.  Do  not  think  that  I  say 
it  to  force  you  to  comply  with  my  wishes.  Oh,  no  ;  far  be 
it  from  me  to  do  that :  but  I  am  merely  stating  what  my 
intentions  are,  so  that  you  may  have  time  to  think  of  it.  I 
cannot  but  hope  that  in  your  cool  and  sober  moments  your 
love  for  Winifred  and  your  mature  judgment  will  induce 
you  to  reverse  your  decision.  I  will  see  you  again,  after 
you  have  had  time  to  think  of  it,  and  before  taking  any 
action  in  the  matter." 

He  bowed  and  smiled  ;  turned  and  bowed  again  as  he 
passed  over  the  threshold.  He  smiled  as  he  went  down 
the  street,  as  he  sat  in  his  counting-room,  as  he  lay  awake 
at  midnight  thinking  it  over  and  saying  to  himself,  "I've 
got  her." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

MR.    BLOSSOM    FINDS    FAULT   WITH    MOSES'  WATCH-CHAIN. 

MOSES  was  enjoying  his  vacation.  Not  having  any 
thing  to  call  him  up  in  the  morning,  he  laid  abed, 
much  to  the  discomfort  of  Mrs.  Tansey,  who  could  not 
bear  to  have  the  breakfast-table  standing  all  the  forenoon. 
After  a  late  breakfast  he  smoked  a  cigar  and  took  a  stroll 
down  the  street,  stopping  now  and  then  to  chat  with  the 
young  ladies  in  the  front  yards,  or  to  play  a  game  of  cro 
quet.  A  good  many  young  ladies  from  Boston  and  New 
York  had  come  to  Millbrook  to  obtain  a  breath  of  fresh 
air  and  to  enjoy  themselves  beneath  the  elms  during  the 
•dog-days.  Moses  could  chat  with  them  till  the  stage  came 
whirling  up  the  street,  when  he  must  be  at  the  post  office, 
not  only  to  get  his  own  letters,  but  to  change  the  mail ;  for, 
having  nothing  else  to  occupy  his  time,  he  had  consented 
to  do  thus  much  for  his  old  friend,  Mr.  Sharp,  who  was 
taking  his  vacation  at  the  seashore. 

As  the  days  waned,  the  visitors  packed  their  trunks  and 
took  their  departure,  but  Moses  still  remained  and  patro 
nized  the  "  Flying  Eagle's  "  livery  every  fair  day,  taking 
Miss  Bell  Blossom  out  to  ride.  Or,  if  by  any  chance  Miss 
Bell  could  not  go,  he  leaned  over  the  front  yard  gate  and 
chatted  with  her,  or  they  strolled  together  beneath  the 
elms,  not  altogether  to  the  liking  of  Bell's  father. 

329 


j._,c  (.'alcl>   Krinklf. 

Mr.  Blossom  had  his  own  notion  of  things.  So  inde 
pendent  wns  he  in  that  respect  that  people  were  accus 
tomed  to  say  that  he  did  his  own  thinking.  He  had 
npticed  a  growing  intimacy  between  Bell  and  Moses,  and 
there  had  been  so  much  riding  and  strolling  and  leaning 
over  the  gate,  that  Mr.  Blossom  concluded  he  would  have 
a  few  words  with  Bell  upon  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  know,  Bell,"  he  said,  one  evening  \\hea  Moses- 
had  taken  his  departure,  —  -'I  don't  know  what  may  be 
going  on  between  you  and  Moses,  but  the  time  has  come 
for  you  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  You  have  had  enough  of 
gadding,  riding,  flirting  and  strolling,  and  1  want  you  to 
put  a  stop  to  it.'' 

"  Why  must  I  put  a  stop  to  it,  father  ? " 

"  Because  I  don't  like  him." 

"  But  suppose  I  do  ? "  Bell  asked,  nestling  down  into  his 
lap  and  pulling  his  whiskers,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do 
when  she  wanted  to  bring  him  round  to  her  way  of  think 
ing  or  reconcile  him  to  any  scheme. 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  I  thought  you  had  any  partic 
ular  liking  for  him,  my  daughter." 

The  smile  faded  from  Bell's  face,  for  she  saw  that  he 
had  taken  the  matter  to  heart. 

"What  Is  there  about  Moses  that  you  do  not  like?" 

"  He  munches  burnt  coffee  and  cloves." 

"  Munches  burnt  coffee  and  cloves  !  "  Bell  exclaimed,  at 
a  loss  to  comprehend  him. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  ;  that  is  one  reason  why  I  don't  like  him." 

'•  Folks  say  that  you  are  queer  in  your  ideas,  father,  and 
1  partly  believe  it.  What  is  there  objectional  about  coffee 
and  cloves  ?  Don't  we  drink  the  one  and  put  the  other 
into  pies  and  cakes  ?  It  is  only  a  habit  with  Moses." 

"  No,  it  isn't  a  habit.     We  do  some  things  from  habit 


Mr.  Blossom  Finds  Fault  with  Moses1  Watch-chain.  33 1 

and  \ve  do  other  things  with  a  purpose.  Moses  isn't  the 
only  man  I  have  met  who  munches  coffee  and  cloves  and 
snakeroot  and  other  things  for  a  purpose.  What  does  he 
do  it  for?  Isn't  it  to  cover  up  with  something  sweet  and 
fragrant  something  that  is  not  so  sweet  ?  It  isn't  the 
coffee  that  I  object  to,  but  the  whiskey." 

A  new  light  dawned  upon  Bell.  She  had  seen  Moses 
eat  cloves,  but  it  never  had  occurred  to  her  that  it  might 
be  for  a  purpose.  She  loved  Moses.  From  childhood 
her  heart  had  gone  out  toward  him,  and  so  long  as  he  was 
only  doing  as  a  great  many  other  young  men  were  in  the. 
habit  of  doing,  she  could  not  forego  her  love.  He  had 
not  formally  proposed  to  her,  but  why  did  he  linger  by  her 
side,  why  take  her  hand  so  tenderly,  why  encircle  her  with 
his  arm,  if  he  did  not  love  her? 

"  He  only  takes  a  glass  now  and  then,  as  all  young  men 
do,"  she  replied. 

"  No,  it  is  not  an  occasional,  but  the  habitual  smell  of 
whiskey  that  he  is  trying  to  cover  up.  Now,  my  daughter, 
I  have  your  happiness  very  much  at  heart,  and  I  would 
rather  follow  you  to  the  grave  than  see  you  married  to  a 
drunkard,  or  to  a  man  who  is  in  danger  of  being  one.  To 
my  way  of  thinking,  there  isn't  this  side  of  the  bottomless 
pit  a  life  so  full  of  misery  as  the  life  of  the  woman  who 
has  a  habitual  sot  for  a  husband.  You  can't  take  up  a 
newspaper  without  seeing  an  account  of  a  murder,  or  an. 
attempt  to  kill,  —  a  maiming  or  a  wounding  by  drunken 
husbands.  And  only  think  of  the  crimes  that  don't 
get  into  the  papers  !  Every  night  myriads  of  women  lie 
down  beside  drunken  wretches  whose  very  presence  taints- 
the  air,  and  they  rise  in  the  morning  to  a  life  of  misery, 
hunger,  wretchedness  and  woe,  that  has  no  ending  except 
in  the  grave." 


33 2  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  1  am  sorry  that  you  are  so  prejudiced  against  Moses, 
father.  Don't  you  think  that  he  has  any  good  qualities  ?  " 

"  A  great  many,  I  dare  say  ;  but  many  a  noble  ship  has 
foundered  at  sea  because  there  was  a  worm-eaten  plank  in 
the  hull.  When  we  cross  the  ocean  we  are  careful  to 
select  the  staunchest  steamer  possible,  but  there  is  many  a 
girl  who  starts  for  a  voyage  across  life's  ocean  with  a  ciaft 
which  she  knows,  or  ought  to  know,  is  in  danger  of  going 
to  the  bottom.  I  want  you  to  go  safely,  my  daughter." 

"  What  else  have  you  to  say  about  Moses?  " 

"  I  don't  like  the  cut  of  his  clothes,  nor  the  way  he  wears 
his  beard ;  nor  do  I  like  the  rings  on  his  fingers." 

"  Why,  father  !  I  think  that  his  clothes  fit  elegantly  ;  there 
isn't  a  wrinkle  in  his  coat,  and  it  is  of  the  latest  style." 

"  You  remember,  my  dear,  —  it  was  before  you  were  born, 
though,  but  you  have  heard  me  tell  of  it,  —  that  I  spent  a  grekt 
many  years  in  the  South  and  West,  travelling  up  and  down 
the  Mississippi  river  on  steamboats.  I  travelled  so  constantly, 
that  in  the  course  of  years  I  was  able  to  read  character  al 
most  at  sight.  Whenever  I  saw  a  man  with  elegant  clothes 
that  fitted  him  almost  to  perfection,  who  was  very  polite  to 
everybody,  who  never  got  into  a  row,  who  wore  a  diamond 
ring  on  his  little  finger  and  a  diamond  pin  in  his  shirt,  who 
was  very  precise  about  his  beard  and  moustache,  who  had  a 
cold  eye  and  a  certain  indescribable  hardness  about  the  face, 
wherever  I  saw  such  a  man  I  knew  in  an  instant  what  he  was 
travelling  for,  how  he  spent  his  time  and  what  he  did  for  his 
living.  I  knew,  what  his  hopes  and  aspirations  were.  I  un 
derstood  his  character  almost  as  well  as  if  I  had  known  him 
for  years." 

"  What  did  he  do  for  a  living,  and  what  was  his  character?  " 
Bell  asked,  thinking  quite  as  much  of  her  father's  habits  of 
observation  and  his  way  of  looking  at  things  as  any  applica 
tion  the  description  might  have  to  Moses. 


Mr.  Blossom  Finds  Fault  with  Moses1  Watch-chain.   333 

"  He  fleeced  fools  ;  he  was  a  gambler." 

"  O  father,  you  don't  mean  to  insinuate  that  Moses  is  a 
gambler  !  You  are  really  too  hard  on  him ;  you  are  preju 
diced  against  him.  Of  course  he  plays  cards,  as  almost  every 
body  does,  whist,  euchre,  and  innocent  games,  —  but  he  never 
gambled  for  money.  Oh,  no,  he  wouldn't  do  that,  I  know  he 
wouldn't." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"I  am  sure  that  he  wouldn't;  gambling  is  so  low  and 
mean  and  degrading.  He  couldn't  do  it ;  he  would  lose  the 
respect  of  everybody." 

"  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  see  you  conscious  of  what  is  right 
and  noble  and  good,  but  if  you  will  analyze  what  you  have 
just  said  you  will  see  that  it  contains  denial  and  inference, 
but  nothing  else.  Now  I  do  not  assert  that  Moses  is  a  con 
firmed  gambler.  He  has  not  had  sufficient  time  since  he  left 
home  for  the  hardness,  characteristic  of  the  confirmed  games 
ter,  to  show  itself  in  his  face ;  the  humanities  are  not  yet 
wholly  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron,  but  if  the  searing  process, 
has  not  begun,  then  for  once,  after  forty  years  of  observation,. 
I  am  mistaken." 

"  Moses  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  do  it." 

"  Well,  time  will  tell.  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  find  my 
self  mistaken." 

"  Have  you  any  other  objection  to  Moses?  " 

"Yes;  I  don't  like  his  watch-chain." 

"  What  has  a  watch-chain  to  do  with  a  man's  character,  I 
should  like  to  know?  " 

"  A  good  deal ;  more  than  you  think,  perhaps.  My  daugh 
ter,  I  am  getting  well  along  in  years,  and  I  have  kept 
my  eyes  pretty  wide  open  ever  since  I  was  a  boy  and  this  is 
the  result  of  my  observation  :  When  I  see  a  man  wearing  a 
flashy  watch-chain,  I  am  pretty  sure  there  is  a  screw  loose  or 


334  Caleb  Krinkle. 

a  wheel  wanting  about  the  fellow  somewhere.  I  don't  say  it 
is  always  a  sure  sign,  but  I  never  yet  have  been  mistaken  in 
regard  to  it.  A  man  who  carries  a  jeweller's  shop  on  his  fin 
gers  or  hitched  to  his  watch-chain  may  not  be  wicked,  but  it 
is  a  pretty  sure  indication  that  he  is  weak.  It  isn't,  however, 
Moses'  chain  so  much  as  the  toggery  attached  to  it  that  I  ob 
ject  to.  You  have  noticed  a  seal,  a  locket,  a  little  telescope, 
a  dog's  head,  and  I  don't  know  what  else,  dangling  in  a  bunch 
against  his  vest.  I  took  a  look  at  them  the  other  day,  and 
improved  the  opportunity  of  peeping  into  the  miniature 
telescope." 

Mr.  Blossom  stopped.  Should  he  tell  Bell  what  he  saw? 
"You  saw  Moses'  photograph  of  course,"  said  Bell. 
"  Yes,  but  of  his  character,  not  of  his  face.  I  could  see 
the  books  he  liked  best,  —  novels  written  by  French  authors, 
and  I  dare  say  you  might  find  a  pile  of  them  on  his  table,  or 
in  his  trunk.  I  could  see  the  pictures  that  give  him  the  most 
pleasure,  —  not  such  as  you  would  like  to  see  hanging  in  your 
chamber,  but  which  I  dare  say  are  hanging  in  his.  I  could 
see  the  women  whose  society  give  him  the  most  pleasure,  — 
not  such  ladies  as  you  love  to  associate  with,  —  they  were  all 
there  plain  to  my  eyes.  Now,  my  dear,  I  have  talked  very 
plainly,  and  you  know  my  sentiments,  and  I  would  like,  for 
your  own  happiness  as  well  as  for  the  happiness  of  myself 
and  your  mother,  to  have  you  cut  loose  from  Moses." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  blame   me,  father,  if  I  do  not  see 
things  as  you  do." 

"  I  do  not  expect  you  to,  my  daughter,  but  I  don't  want 
you  to  get  entangled  with  Moses." 

"  He  has  always  treated  me  kindly  and  honorably." 
"  I  dare  say,  but  I  want  you  to  keep  clear  of  him." 
"  I  can't  be  rude  to  him  without  some  excuse." 
"  I  would  not  have  you  rude,  but  you  must  let  him  know- 
that  his  attentions  are  not  agreeable." 


Mr.  Blossom  Finds  Fault  with  Moses'  Watch-chain.  335 

"  But  they  are  agreeable,  and  I  think  that  you  don't  under 
stand  him." 

The  conversation  ended,  with  a  frown  on  Mr.  Blossom's 
brow  and  a  feeling  on  the  part  of  Bell  that  he  was  unreasona 
ble  in  his  prejudices  against  Moses. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

LITTLE   MAID'S    HEAD    IS  LEVEL. 

AS  the  rock  must  be  broken  by  the  hammer  before  we 
can  get  at  the  golden  ore,  so  there  are  sorae  souls 
that  must  be  smitten  by  adversity  before  we  can  get  at 
their  true  worth.  Some  spirits  are  bravest  when  the  storm 
is  loudest.  Linda's  was  of  such  a  nature.  There  was  no 
trembling  of  her  lips,  no  blanching  of  the  cheek,  but  an 
unusual  brightness  came  into  her  eyes,  and  there  was  a 
quickening  of  the  pulse,  as  she  sat  clown  to  think,  —  not 
whether  she  should  accept  Mr.  Meek's  offer  and  become 
his  wife  —  that  was  settled,  but  how  to  circumvent  him  in 
his  designs  as  to  Winifred. 

She  sat  in  her  rocking-chair,  looking  out  as  if  upon  the 
landscape,  the  russet  fields,  the  distant  woodlands,  with 
the  first  symptoms  of  approaching  change  of  colors,  visible 
in  the  foliage  of  the  elms  and  maples.  But  she  did  not 
see  either  the  fields,  the  woodland,  nor  the  changing  foliage. 
She  was  looking  into  vacancy.  She  was  picturing  a  battle 
in  which  she  was  alone,  and  yet  appointed  of  God  to  be 
the  guardian  and  protector  of  Winifred,  against  the 
machinations  of  a  wicked  but  powerful  antagonist. 

That  Mr.  Meek  would  do  all  he  had  threatened  or 
hinted,  and  more,  she  could  not  doubt.  She  knew  that  he 
usually  accomplished  whatever  he  laid  his  hands  to.  He 
336 


Little  Maid's  Head  is  Level.  337 

meant  just  what  he  said  when  he  informed  her  that  he 
'could  obtain  the  appointment  as  guardian  for  Winifred. 
She  knew  that  he  was  strong  and  that  she  was  weak,  and 
yet  she  did  not  quail.  How  coulcl  she  best  defeat  his 
plans?  What  tactics  ought  she  to  pursue?  Would  it  be 
best  to  go  to  Mr.  Makepeace,  the  lawyer,  and  put  the  case 
into  his  hands  at  once  ;  or,  to  the  judge  of  the  court,  and 
plead  her  case  ? 

She  turned  over  the  first  proposition  and  rejected  it. 

Mr.  Makepeace  was  her  friend  ;  he  was  a  good  honest 
lawyer,  but  in  his  integrity  and  slowness  he  would  be  no 
match  for  Meek's  plausibility  and  quickness.  She  took  up 
the  other  proposition  :  The  judge  would  hear  her  story. 
He  might  pity  her;  but  she  was  only  a  poor  girl,  and  knew 
nothing  of  business.  Mr.  Meek  was  honored,  respected, 
a  trustee  of  estates,  and  known  to  the  court  :  herself,  un 
known.  She  would  not  stand  the  ghost  of  a  chance 
against  Mr.  Meek.  Thinking  —  thinking — thinking,  her 
eyes  seeing  nothing  but  the  problem. 

Winifred  came  in  with  flowers  in  her  hands,  but  Linda 
did  not  see  her  —  did  not  hear  her  steps  upon  the  carpet. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  aunty  ?  " 

"  How  to  solve  a  problem  in  the  Rule  of  Three,  darling." 

'•'  I  didn't  know  you  were  studying  arithmetic." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am.  Don't  you  know  that  I  have  to  help 
you  quite  often  with  your  problems  in  fractions?  " 

"  But  what  are  you  studying  it  for  ?  " 

"  To  keep  my  hand  in.  Besides,  Mr.  Meek  has  just 
given  me  a  problem  to  solve,  and  he  thinks  I  can't  do  it. 
Aunty  don't  like  to  give  in  until  she  is  beaten,"  said  Linda 
with  a  smile,  kissing  the  fair  cheek,  and  getting  a  hug  in 
return. 

"And  now,  darling,  just  hand  me  the  almanac." 


338  Caleb  Krinkte. 

Winifred  brought  it  to  her,-. wondering  what  she  could 
find  in  it  to  help  her. 

"The  court  meets  the  second  Tuesday  in  September, 
and  this  is  the  first,"  said  Linda,  unconsciously,  aloud. 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?  "  Winifred  asked. 

"  Considerable.  It  is  a  question  of  time ;  it  is  a  whole 
week,  to  begin  with." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Winifred,  more  in  the  dark  than  before. 

"  Of  course  not,  darling,  but  you  will  see  it  all  and  under 
stand  it  all  when  you  get  to  it,  but  run  away  and  play  now, 
and  let  aunty  think." 

The  child  went  away,  and  the  thinking  went  on. 

"  Dan  will  be  at  home  to-morrow,  and  he  will  help  me.  I 
can  rely  on  him." 

Those  were  the  accepted  thoughts,  the  thoughts  through 
which  she  stuck  a  pin,  as  it  were,  and  reserved  them  for  fu 
ture  use.  And  then  the  sewing-machine  went  on  with  its 
humming,  stitching  her  thoughts  into  the  vests  she  was  mak 
ing  for  Mr.  Meek. 

"  I  will  finish  them,  close  the  account,  and  draw  my  pay," 
and  the  machine  went  on  with  a  swifter  humming. 

Dan  came.  His  quick  eye  saw  that  something  had  oc 
curred  during  his  absence,  but  he  was  too  wise  to  ask  any 
questions. 

"  She  will  tell  me  if  it  is  any  thing  she  wants  me  to  know, 
and  if  she  don't  want  me  to  know,  it's  none  of  my  business," 
he  said  to  himself. 

Dan  sat  down  to  his  supper,  talked  with  Winifred,  took  her 
into  his  lap  afterwards,  and  told  her  of  his  last  journey,  till  it 
was  time  for  her  to  go  to  bed.  Mrs.  Dishaway  was  absent. 

"  Dan,"  said  Linda,  laying  her  soft  hand  upon  his  brow  and 
brushing  the  hair  from  his  temples  as  she  was  wont  to  do. 

"What  is  it,  Little  Maid?" 


Little  Maid's  Head  is  Level.  319 

"  You  are  my  best  friend.     I  can  trust  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Little  Maid.  I  wish  I  was  more  worthy  of 
your  trust." 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  what  has  happened,  and  then 
what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  am  not  going  to  make  you  prom 
ise  to  keep  it  secret,  because  I  know  you  will.  Some  secrets 
are  more  securely  kept  when  no  promise  is  given  than  when 
exacted ;  mutual  trust  is  the  best  of  all  pledges." 

"I  think  that  you  may  set  your  heart  at  rest  on  that 
point,  Little  Maid.  I  can  keep  my  own  secrets,  and  hope 
I  shall  not  abuse  your  confidence." 

"  I  know  you  will  not,  Dan,"  and  she  narrated  what  had 
passed. 

"  The  wicked,  hypocritical,  contemptible  old  scapegrace 
of  a  sinner!  "  exclaimed  Dan,  unable  to  restrain  his  indig 
nation,  and  letting  off  epithets  like  a  battery  of  fireworks. 

"  So  he  is  going  to  compel  you  to  marry  him,  or  else 
give  up  Golden  Locks,  is  he  ?  Blast  his  picter !  " 

"It  looks  like  that." 

"You  are  not  going  to  let  him  slip  the  matrimonial 
noose  round  your  neck,  are  ye  ?  " 

"O  Dan,  how  can  you  ask  such  a  question  !  You  don't 
suppose  I  would  entertain  such  a  thought  for  a  moment, 
do  you?" 

"  No,  I  don't ;  but  I  reckon  there  are  some  girls  who 
wouhl  jump  at  the  chance,  as  a  pickerel  darts  at  a  shiner, 
—  only  to  get  hooked.  Women  are  curious  critters  ;  some 
of  'em,  I  mean." 

He  was  thinking  of  Deborah,  how  she  had  married  Mr. 
Nubbin,  because  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  about, 
and  had  been  wretched  through  all  the  years,  till  Nubbin 
hanged  himself. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  ain't  going  to  jine  your  fortune  with 


540  Caleb  Rr inkle. 

his,  he  intends  to  take  Golden  Locks,  and  there's  where 
we  must  head  him  off.  And  how  shall  we  do  it  ?  "  he  added. 

':  That  is  just  what  I  want  to  talk  about.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  Whatever  we  do,  there  mustn't  be  any  fizzling  out  or 
flashing  in  the  pan.  You  hold  on  a  minute,  and  let  me 
see  if  I  can  cipher  it  out." 

To  cipher  it  out  Dan  put  his  feet  in  a  chair,  half  closed 
his  eyes,  and  twirled  his  thumbs  for  several  minutes. 

"  Little  Maid,  I'm  up  a  stump.  I  can't  see  daylight  any 
where.  I  am  afraid  Meek  will  hoe  his  row  in  spite  of  us. 
Ye  see  everybody  knows  he  has  got  money,  and  knows 
how  to  take  care  of  it.  The  court  knows  him.  He  is 
guardian  for  the  Leatherses  children  ;  he's  settled  ever  so 
many  estates ;  he's  director  of  the  bank  ;  he's  got  the  in 
side  track.  We  might  petition  and  protest  till  all  is  blue, 
and  we  shouldn't  make  any  headway  against  him.  He 
would  hocus-pocus  us  every  time.  If  we  should  get 
up  a  petition  for  the  appointment  of.  anybody  else,  he 
would  snap  his  fingers  in  our  faces.  There  ain't  a  smarter 
villain  anywhere  round  than  he  is." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  let  Mr.  Meek  take  Winifred  away 
from  me,"  said  Linda  quietly  and  firmly. 

"  But  if  he  gets  the  twist  over  us  with  the  law,  he'll 
do  it." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  will  even  then." 

"But  he  can.  The  law  is  powerful ;  it  can  do  any  thing 
it  pleases,"  said  rj)an,  making  an  effort  to  convince  her  of 
the  majesty  of  the  law,  remembering  that  she  was  a 
woman. 

"  No,  Dan,  not  even  if  it  pleases." 

"Why,  Little  Maid!  you  can't  stand  against  the  sheriff! 
You  can't  nail  up  your  windows,  and  lock  your  doors,  and 


Little  Maid's  Head  is  Level.  341 

get  kettles  of  hot  water  ready  to  scald  him,  and  all  that  ? " 

"No,  I  sha'n't  do  any  thing  of  the  kind." 

"Well,  what  will  you  do,  when  he  comes  with  his  man 
damus,  or  woman-damns,  which  I  suppose  he  will  have  in 
this  case  ? " 

"  Supposing  he  shouldn't  find  me  ?" 

"  Then  he  would  take  Golden  Locks  by  the  hand  and 
lead  her  off." 

"No,  he  wouldn't.'' 

"It  is  very  easy  for  us  to  put  our  foot  down,  Little 
Maid,  and  say  that  a  thing  sha'n't  be,  just  because  we  feel 
it  ought  not  to  be  ;  but  the  question  is,  how  to  prevent  it ; 
don't  you  see  ? " 

"Yes,  Dan,  I  see,  and  let  me  tell  you  that  Mr.  Meek 
won't  have  her.  nor  will  the  sheriff  have  her,  — not  if  he 
has  all  the  sheriffs  in  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  to 
back  him  up,  and  all  the  judges  besides." 

A  shadow  passed  over  Dan's  face.  Had  the  desertion 
of  White  Hair  and  this  new  trouble  taken  away  her 
senses  ? 

"Have  you  lost  your  wits,  Little  Maid?" 

"  No,  Dan,  I  never  was  clearer  headed  in  my  life.  Mr. 
Meek  won't  get  her." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  he  won't  find  her." 

"But  he'll  get  out  a  search  warrant." 

"  Even  with  that  he  will  not  find  her." 

"  But  they'll  summon  you,  and  you'll  have  to  tell  where 
she  is." 

"  I  sha'n't  tell." 

"Then  they'll  put  you  into  jail,  till  you  do." 

"  But  I  won't  go  to  jail." 

It  was  spoken   so    triumphantly  that   Dan  was  afraid, 


342  Caleb  Krinkle. 

after  all,  she  was  losing  her  senses,  and  his  great  noble 
heart  went  out  in  pity  for  her.  He  resolved,  if  it  was  so, 
that  she  should  never  want  for  any  thing  while  he  had 
strength  to  help  her.  He  would  make  one  more  effort  to 
reason  with  her. 

"  But,  Little  Maid,  they  take  folks  by  main  force  and  put 
irons  on  'em  when  they  won't  go  to  jail  peaceably.  I 
shouldn't  want  to  see  you  in  manacles  ;  I  couldn't  stand  it.'' 

"  Oh.  they  won't  do  that,  Dan  ;  they  won't  be  able  to  lay 
a  ringer  on  me." 

"  But  they  will ;  you  don't  know  so  much  about  the  law, 
Little  Maid,  as  I  do.  Excuse  me  for  saying  it." 

"  No,  Dan,  they  won't  so  much  as  lay  their  jittle  finger 
upon  me." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Now  you  have  asked  a  sensible  question,  Dan  ;  because 
I  sha'n't  be  here,  nor  will  Winifred  be  here." 

"  Won't  —  be  —  here  !  "  Dan  repeated  the  words  slowly, 
as  if  weighing  every  one.  And  slowly  the  comprehension 
came  to  him. 

"  O  Little  Maid  !  No  brain  but  yours  would  ever  have 
thought  it  out.  Here  I've  been  wondering  if  you  were  not 
daft,  and  you  have  been  laughing  at  me  all  the  time. 
Won't  be  able  to  find  you  !  won't  be  able  to  find  Golden 
Locks!  Oh,  that  will  be  jolly!  Won't  it  be  cute  ?  The 
sheriff  hunting  for  you  everywhere,  and  not  able  to  find 
you  !  "  Dan  laughed  till  his  sides  ached,  and  felt  like  tak 
ing  down  his  violin  and  dancing  a  jig.  "  Little  Maid,  your 
head  is  level.  Jingo  !  Won't  Meek  tear  his  hair?  Oh,  won't 
he  suck  in  his  lips  and  walk  like  a  hyena  around  his  den 
when  he  finds  he  has  been  thwarted  by  a  girl  !"  A  shade 
passed  over  Dan's  face.  "  But  it  will  be  so  lonely  here  !  I 
can't  bear  to  think  of  it.  No  sight  of  your  sweet  face. 


JLittte  Maid's  Head  is  Level.  343 

Little  Maid,  I  am  a  better  man  when  T  nm  here  with  you 
than  when  I  am  away.  You  are  more  than  a  sister  to  me, 
you  are  an  angel.  God  bless  you  for  all  the  good  you 
have  clone  me.  And  then  the  house  will  be  so  empty  with 
Golden  Locks  gone.  She  is  so  sweet  and  winning  that 
when  I  am  away  it  seems  as  if  I  must  leave  all  the  old 
rags  and  pelts  behind  and  has; en  home  to  see  her.  But 
where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Wherever  the  Lord  shall  direct  me.  I  put  my  trust  in 
Him.  He  sent  Winifred  to  my  arms  for  some  good  pur 
pose,  I  believe,  and  he  will  not  overturn  his  own  work. 
He  can't  do  that,  and  whatever  he  brings  to  me,  wherever 
he  may  lead  me,  I  know  that  it  will  be  just  the  very  best 
thing  that  can  happen.  I  know  that  it  is  my  duty  to  flee, 
but  do  not  know  where  I  am  going.  I  shall  go  till  I  am 
beyond  the  reach  of  Mr.  Meek,  —  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
law  he  may  be  able  to  invoke.  I  must  go  secretly.  He 
must  know  nothing  till  I  am  gone,  nor  must  anybody  else. 
And  now,  Dan,  I  have  only  you  to  help  me  carry  out  my 
plans." 

Linda  unfolded  her  plan.  Her  keen,  searching  eye  and 
quickened  intellect  had  gone  straight  to  the  mark,  She  had 
a  few  hundred  dollars  in  the  bank,  and  so  had  Dan.  He 
might  advance  her  money  and  take  her  bank-book,  and  she 
could  be  in  funds  without  creating  any  suspicions  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Meek.  If  she  were  to  withdraw  her  own  money,  and 
the  fact  should  by  any  means  come  to  his  knowledge,  he 
might  mistrust  that  there  was  something  going  on,  and  set  a 
watch  upon  her  movements.  Dan  must  carry  her  and  Wini 
fred  away  by  night  to  the  cars  where  they  could  take  the  west 
ward-bound  express  train.  It  would  be  dark ;  no  one  would 
see  them,  and  their  tracks  would  be  completely  covered.  That 
was  her  plan,  —  one  that  would  defeat  all  the  machinations  of 
Mr.  Meek. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MR.    MEEK   TWISTS    HIS    WHISKERS. 

LINDA  and  Winifred  were  gone.  Dan  had  taken  them 
to  the  railroad  at  midnight,  bidden  them  farewell, 
watched  the  two  red  lanterns  upon  the  platform  of  the  last 
car  till  they  disappeared  round  a  curve,  and  then  returned  with 
a  heavy  heart  to  Millbrook.  A  week  had  passed  since  their 
departure,  a  week  of  rain  and  storm,  and  no  one  had 
called  at  the  cottage  to  see  Linda,  and  not  a  soul  in  Mill- 
brook  besides  Dan  knew  that  she  was  gone. 

Monday  evening  had  come,  and  Mr.  Meek  and  Moses  were 
at  supper.  It  was  a  cheerless  meal,  as  were  all  their  meals, 
with  only  the  father,  son,  and  Mrs.  Tansey  at  the  table.  Moses 
was  disgusted  with  the  country.  The  summer  boarders  had 
taken  their  departure  from  Millbrook.  The  rain  had  been 
falling  for  a  week,  and  it  gave  him  the  blues  to  stay  there. 
The  sun  was  shining  again,  but  he  would  stay  no  longer  in 
such  a  dismal  place. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  Boston  to-night,  father,  and  want  some 
money,"  said  Moses,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  How  much  ?  " 

"  A  thundering  lot." 

"How  much  is  that?  " 

"  Well,  anywhere  from  three  thousand  upward." 
344 


Mr.  Meek  Twists  his  Whiskers.  345 

"  What !  " 

"Not  less  than  three  thousand." 

"You  are  good  at  jokes." 

"I  am  in  earnest,  father.  I  can't  go  back  with  less 
than  that  amount,  and,  while  you  are  about  it,  you  may  as 
well  make  it  an  even  five." 

"  Can't  go  with  less  than  three,  eh  ?  Well,  I  hope  you 
may  get  it,"  said  the  father,  rising  from  the  table  as  he 
finished  his  tea.  Moses  bit  his  lip,  but  made  no  reply. 

Mr.  Meek  brushed  his  hair,  put  on  his  gloves,  took  his 
cane,  and  went  out  for  a  walk.  He  strolled  leisurely  up 
the  hill  to  Linda's  home,  thinking  what  he  should  do  if 
Linda  should  still  persist  in  her  determination  not  to 
marry  him.  Her  rejection  of  his  offer  had  but  inflamed 
him  all  the  more,  and  he  determined  to  press  his  suit  to 
the  utmost.  If  she  would  not  yield,  he  would  ride  over  to 
Hilltown  in  the  morning,  where  the  court  would  be  in 
session,  and  make  application  for  the  guardianship  of 
Winifred. 

Dan  was  sitting  beneath  the  porch,  playing  his  violin. 
With  his  mother  away  looking  after  the  sick,  with  Linda 
and  Winifred  gone,  the  house  was  a  lonely  place. 

He  was  playing  the  "  Last  Rose  of  Summer  "  as  Mr. 
Meek  approached. 

"Solacing  yourself  with  music,  I  see,  Dan.  You  are  a 
splendid  player.  You  ought  to  go  down  to  Boston;  you 
might  make  your  fortune  playing  to  the  city  folks.  They 
don't  get  such  playing  as  yours  every  day." 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Meek,  that  plaster  won't  stick.  I  know 
what  is  good  playing,  and  what  isn't.  1  can  feel  the 
music  kinder  rolling  round  inside  of  me,  but  I  can't  get  it 
out.  If  I  was  a  gocd  player  I  could  get  hold  of  it.  Did 
you  ever  think,  Mr.  Meek,  how  wonderful  it  is,  this  draw- 


346  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

ing  of  horse-hair  across  catgut,  and  making  sounds  that 
will  set  people  to  laughing  one  moment  and  crying  the 
next  ?  There  are  some  players  that  will  make  the  catgut 
speak  the  words  right  out,  but  my  playing  is  just  sawing  and 
nothing  else.  But  I  can  feel  the  poems  inside  of  me ; 
they  are  there." 

"  You  are  altogether  too  modest,  Dan ;  you  are  the  prince 
of  fiddlers." 

Mr.  Meek  was  not  thinking  what  he  was  saying,  but  how 
to  get  Dan  out  of  the  way  so  that  he  could  have  a  talk 
with  Linda. 

"I  am  just  a  fiddler,  and  nothing  else,"  Dan  replied. 

"  By  the  way,  Dan,  I  have  come  up  here  and  have  for 
gotten  half  of  my  errand.  I  was  going  to  bring  a  little 
package  to  Linda ;  you  wasn't  going  down  the  street  for 
any  thing,  was  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wasn't,"  said  Dan,  going  on  with  his  playing. 

"  How  unfortunate !  It  was  a  bundle  of  vests  for  her 
to  begin  on  in  the  morning.  You  don't  want  to  run  down 
and  get  them,  do  you,  while  I  go  in  and  have  a  little  chat 
with  her  about  making  them  up  ?  " 

"  Well  —  no  —  I  —  don't  know  as  —  I  —  do,"  said  Dan, 
speaking  very  slowly,  and  putting  an  appogiatura  and 
tremolo  into  the  strain  he  was  playing. 

"  What  do  you  call  that  ? " 

"  In  music  they  call  it  a  'poggitura,  but  I  call  it  the  shak 
ing  of  a  lamb's  tail." 

"The  what!" 

"The  shaking  of  a  lamb's  tail.  You've  seen  little  lambs 
wiggle  their  tails,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  never  knew  there  was  any  thing  in  music 
like  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  see  if  there  isn't; ''  and  Dan  repeated  the  tremolo^ 


Mr.  Meek  Twists  his  Whiskers.  347 

putting  in  an  extra  shake  so  comically  that  Mr.  Meek 
laughed  heartily. 

"  I  told  you,  Dan,  that  you  ought  to  go  to  Boston.  If 
you  were  to  play  for  the  Handel  and  Haydn  Society,  you 
would  bring  down  the  house  every  time." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,  and  maybe  get  kicked  into  the 
street.  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Meek,  you  can't  lather  me  with  such 
soft-soap  as  that." 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  in  and  see  Linda  a  moment,"  said  Mr. 
Meek. 

He  bowed  from  habit  as  he  went  into  the  sitting-room, 
but  Linda  was  not  there.  He  concluded  that  she  must  be 
somewhere  about  the  house,  and  took  a  seat.  He  admired 
the  tidiness  of  the  room,  and  the  flowers  in  the  windows. 
He  waited  awhile,  but  as  Linda  did  not  make  her  appear 
ance,  went  upon  the  porch  again. 

"Linda  does  not  appear  to  be  in,"  he  said. 

"  Maybe  she  has  gone  out  somewhere,"  Dan  replied. 

"I  don't  see  Winifred  about,"  Mr.  Meek  remarked, 
looking  round. 

"  Perhaps  they  have  gone  out  together,"  said  Dan. 

"  She  isn't  in  the  parlor,  is  she  ? " 

"  I  guess  not." 

Notwithstanding  the  answer,  Mr.  Meek  concluded  that 
Linda  had  gone  into  the  parlor  to  avoid  him. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  in  there.  If  she  is,  I  would  like  to  see 
her  a  moment." 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  there,  but  we  will  see." 

Dan  opened  the  parlor  door,  and  Mr.  Meek  himself  saw 
that  Linda  was  not  there. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  upstairs,"  he  said. 

"  I  haven't  heard  her  stepping  around  up  there."  Dan 
replied. 


348  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  She  may  be  there,  for  all  that ;  suppose  you  step  to  the 
stairway  and  speak  to  her." 

Dan  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  chamber,  and  called, 
but  there  was  no  response.  Although  no  answer,  Mr. 
Meek  was  of  the  opinion  that  Linda  was  nevertheless  in 
her  chamber. 

"  Just  say  to  her,  Dan,  that  I  wish  very  much  to  see  her." 

"  Suppose  you  step  here  and  speak  to  her  yourself/' 

Mr.  Meek,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  concluded  to  do 
so.  Linda  would  not  be  likely  to  remain  silent  if  he  him 
self  were  to  address  her.  She  was  a  perfect  lady,  and 
though  she  might  wish  to  avoid  him,  would  not  treat  him 
rudely. 

"  Miss  Linda,  I  would  like  to  see  you  a  moment,  if  you 
please,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  speaking  up  the  stairway;  but  no 
answer  came  back  to  him. 

"Perhaps  the  door  of  her  room  may  be  shut.  Speak  a 
little  louder,"  said  Dan. 

"Miss  Linda,  will  you  please  come  down  a  moment?" 
shouted  Mr.  Meek. 

No  opening  of  a  door,  no  footstep,  nothing  but  the  tick 
ing  of  the  old  clock  did  Mr.  Meek  hear;  but  there  was  a 
grin  on  Dan's  face. 

"  Linda's  work  doesn't  seem  to  be  lying  around  as  it 
sometimes  is." 

"  No,  it  doesn't,  that's  a  fact,"  Dan  replied,  looking 
around  the  room. 

"  Maybe  she  has  been  washing  to-day,  and  hasn't  had 
time  to  do  any  sewing." 

"Maybe.  Did  you  ever  think,  Mr.  Meek,  that  washing 
days  are  rather  hard  on  the  women  ? " 

"  Perhaps  Linda  is  out  in  the  orchard.  You  didn't  see 
her  go  out  there,  did  you  ?  " 


Mr.  Meek  Twists  his  Whiskers.  349 

"  No ;  but  if  you  would  like  to  see  if  she  is  there,  you 
can  go  through  the  gate  at  the  end  of  the  shed." 

Mr.  Meek  passed  through  the  gate  into  the  orchard, 
expecting  to  see  Linda  gathering  some  of  the  apples  that 
had  dropped  from  the  trees  during  the  storm,  but  did  not 
find  her.  He  returned  to  the  porch.  He  noticed  that 
there  was  a  bright  light  in  Dan's  eye,  and  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  Dan  was  playing  a  game  with  him.  If  there* 
was  any  thing  in  which  Mr.  Meek  took  pride,  it  was  in  his 
ability  to  see  through  a  game.  It  was  his  business  to 
play  games  upon  other  people,  but  never  to  permit  one 
to  be  played  on  him.  He  would  beat  about  the  bush  no 
longer. 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  is  ? "  he  asked. 

"There  is  where  you've  got  me,  Mr.  Meek.     I  don't." 

"  Where  do  you  think  she  is?  " 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea." 

"  Did  she  say  which  of  the  neighbors  she  was  going  to  ?  " 

"  No  ;  come  to  think  of  it,  she  didn't." 

"  How  soon  do  you  expect  her  back  ?  " 

"I  haven't  a  single  expectation  about  it." 

"  Which  way  do  you  think  she  has  gone  ? " 

"I  rather  think  that  she  went  up  the  road." 

"  How  long  has  she  been  gone  ?  " 

"Well,  let  us  see.  To-day  is  Monday,  yesterday  was 
Sunday,  that  is  two  days  ;  the  day  before  was  Saturday, 
that  is  three ;  the  day  before  that  was  Friday,  that  is 
four ;  the  day  before  that  was  Thursday,  that  is  five  ;  the 
day  before  that  was  Wednesday,  that  is  six  ;  the  day  before 
that  was  Tuesday,  that  is  seven  :  seven  days,  Mr.  Meek." 

There  was  a  provoking  smile  on  Dan's  face. 

There  were  wrinkles  in  Mr.  Meek's  forehead,  and  he 
thrust  his  fingers  into  his  whiskers. 


3 co  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  What !  Seven  days  !  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before  ? 
Here  you  have  been  fooling  me  for  a  half-hour,  having 
me  call  up  the  chamber-stairs,  and  sending  me  into  the 
orchard." 

Mr.  Meek  grew  red  in  the  face  as  he  thought  of  the 
game  Dan  had  played  upon  him. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Meek,  you  didn't  ask  me  when  Linda 
went  away.  I  told  you  I  didn't  think  she  was  in  the  par 
lor,  nor  upstairs,  but  you  would  have  me  call,  and  you  went 
into  the  orchard  of  your  own  accord." 

"  You  always  was  a  joker,  Dan,  but  I'll  be  even  with 
you  some  time." 

Mr.  Meek  was  nettled  He  sucked  the  head  of  his 
cane.  He  was  also  in  a  quandary.  It  was  plain  that 
Linda  had  gone  away  to  avoid  an  ii.  cerview.  How  much 
did  Dan  know  in  regard  to  the  proposal  he  had  made  to 
Linda  ?  He  would  make  a  few  cautious  inquiries. 

"Then  Linda  went  away  a  week  ago,  did  she?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  took  Winifred  ? " 

"Yes." 

"That  is  singular." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  plural." 

"  Ho  !  ho  !     Yes,  that's  so." 

"  Did  Linda  say  when  she  was  coming  back?" 

"No." 

"  And  you  don't  know  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  you  do." 

Mr.  Meek  wanted  to  ask  a  direct  question,  but  hesitated. 
He  drew  some  circles  on  the  floor  with  his  cane  while 
thinking,  as  if  drawing  a  horoscope  in  imitation  of  the 
astrologers  of  old. 

"  Did  she  give  any  reason  for  going  away  ? " 


Mr.  Meek  Twists  his  Whiskers.  351 

"Dan  had  been  thrumming  his  violin,  but  stopped, 
rested  the  instrument  0:1  his  knee,  and  looked  Mr.  Meek 
in  the  face. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Meek,  if  this  is  a  game  at  open  and 
shut,  it  is  about  time  for  me  to  be  putting  a  few  questions ; 
and  as  you  only  wanted  to  see  Linda  about  making  some 
vests,  don't  you  think  that  you  are  putting  considerable 
many  ? " 

"  Perhaps  so ;  but,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  wanted  to  see 
her  about  something  else." 

"  It  was  about  doing  something  for  Golden  Locks, 
wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,  that  was  it.'1 

"  You  want  to  educate  her,  don't  you  ? " 

"Yes  ;  I  told  Linda  I  would  be  glad  to  do  something  for 
her." 

"  What  sort  of  a  proposition  did  you  think  of  making  ? " 

"  That  is  my  business,"  Mr.  Meek  replied  sharply,  not 
relishing  the  return  fire  that  Dan  was  giving  him.  He  de 
termined  to  head  him  off. 

'•'What  reason  did  Linda  give  for  going  away?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  remember  exactly  what  she  said, 
but  the  impression  left  on  my  mind  was,  that  you  had  un 
dertaken  to  play  a  pretty  sharp  game,  and  she  would 
checkmate  you.  Come  to  think  of  it,  Mr.  Meek,  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  she  is  a  little  ahead.'' 

"  I  see  now  that  I  was  not  pa-ticular  enough  in  ex 
plaining  my  intentions." 

"  I  think  it  would  have  been  quite  as  well  for  you  to 
have  made  your  proposition  a  little  different.'' 

Mr.  Meek  winced.  He  saw  what  he  had  not  seen  till 
then,  —  that  the  whole  thing  would  be  made  public. 


352  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Everybody  would  know  that  Linda  had  left  town  suddenly, 
and  would  be  asking  the  reason,  and  as  Dan  knew  all 
about  it,  his  mouth  must  be  stopped.  It  would  not  be 
pleasant  to  have  Mr.  Makepeace,  Mr.  Blossom,  and  every 
body  else,  coming  into  the  store,  punching  him  in  the  ribs, 
and  saying,  "O  Meek,  to  be  checkmated  by  a  girl!  We 
didn't  think  that  of  you."  Mi's.  Gabberly  would  get  hold 
of  it,  and  would  go  from  house  to  house  saying,  "  Have 
you  heard  the  news?  Oh,  my!  Meek  offered  himself  to 
Linda,  and  got  the  mitten,  and  was  going  to  compel  her  to 
marry  him  by  threatening  to  take  away  Winifred/' 

"  To  let  you  know,  Dan,  that  I  am  actuated  solely  by  a 
desire  to  do  what  I  can  to  help  Miss  Fair,  I  shall  not  ask 
to  be  appointed  guardian  to  Winifred,  and  as  you  probably 
know  of  a  way  by  which  you  can  communicate  with  her,  I 
wish  that  you  would  say  to  her  that  I  pledge  my  sacred 
word  and  honor  not  to  do  any  thing  which  will  not  meet 
her  full  approval.  1  wish  that  you  would  so  inform  her  at 
once  ;  and  meanwhile,  if  any  inquiry  is  made  as  to  the 
reason  of  her  being  away,  you  just  trump  up  some  sort  of 
an  excuse,  and  I  will  see  that  you  are  well  rewarded.  As 
evidence  of  my  sincerity,  just  put  that  in  your  pocket." 

Mr.  Meek  was  about  to  put  a  five- dollar  bill  into  Dan's 
hand,  but  Dan  did  not  take  it. 

"  You  are  barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  Mr.  Meek.  In  the 
first  place,  I  have  no  idea  as  to  Linda's  whereabouts.  She 
said  she  was  going  where  all  the  Sheriffs  in  New  Hampshire 
would  not  be  able  to  bring  her  back.  She  didn't  know,  her 
self,  where  it  would  be.  Now,  seeing  that  is  so,  —  and  if  it 
wasn't  so  it  wouldn't  make  any  difference,  —  I  sha'n't  trump 
up  any  story ;  and  if  folks  ask  me  about  it,  I  shall  tell  them 
the  straight  triith." 

Mr.    Meek  was   picking   his   whiskers   as  he  never   had 


Mr.  Mccks  Twists  his  Whiskers.  353 

picked  them  before.     He  walked  up  and  down  the  path,  and 
came  back,  and  stood  before  Dan. 

"See  here,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  flushed  face,  "you  are  at 
the  bottom  of  all  this.  You  are  playing  a  game  on  me,  and 
I  don't  intend  to  be  made  a  fool  of  by  a  tin-peddler.  If  you 
won't  accept  my  offer,  I  shall  apply  for  the  appointment  as 
guardian  to-morrow,  and  have  an  order  issued  upon  you  to 
produce  Winifred.  If  you  don't  do  it,  you  will  take  the  con 
sequences." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Meek;  and  just  tell  me  what  they  will  be, 
and  I  will  be  getting  ready  for  'em." 

"  If  you  don't  produce  her  within  a  given  time,  you  will 
be  arraigned  for  contempt  of  court,  and  then  you  will  have 
an  opportunity  1o  board  at  the  jail  awhile." 

"  How  much  do  they  charge  a  week?  " 

"  More  than  you'll  want  to  pay." 

"  Do  they  give  good  fodder?  " 

"  You  will  find  out." 

"  All  right.  It  is  worth  while  to  find  out  things  we  don't 
know  about.  That  is  the  way  to  get  an  education,  ain't  it?  " 

Mr.  Meek  had  undertaken  to  play  the  game  of  bluff,  and 
found  himself  beaten.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  path 
again,  twisting  his  whiskers  furiously. 

"See  here,  Dan,"  he  said,  stopping  once  more,  "I  don't 
want  to  send  you  to  jail ;  it  would  about  kill  your  mother." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  mother ;  she  will  stand  it.  I  ain't  a 
mite  afraid  of  that.  She  would  a  great  deal  rather  have  me 
go  to  jail  than  to  trump  up  any  story  that  wasn't  true,  and  I 
should  rather  go  than  do  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  any  trouble  about.it.  Come,  now, 
let  us  be  good  friends,  as  we  always  have  been,  and  shake 
hands." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  I'm  agreed." 
23 


354  Caleb  Krinkle. 

And  Dar,  shifting  his  bow  to  his  left  hand,  reached  out 
his  right,  and  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Meek. 

"  You  must  get  Linda  back,  somehow ;  I  don't  care  what 
it  costs." 

"  I  couldn't  do  it  if  you  were  to  bring  every  dollar  you 
have  got  in  the  world  and  lay  it  at  my  feet.  I  don't  know 
where  she  is,  and  if  you  take  me  into  court,  I  shall  swear  it." 

The  directness  and  earnestness  with  which  the  words  were 
spoken,  and  Dan's  well-known  character  for  truthfulness  and 
honesty  convinced  Mr.  Meek  that  Linda  was  beyond  any 
immediate  recall.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and 
he  walked  down  the  path  chagrined  at  the  position  of 
affairs.  As  he  passed  through  the  gate  he  heard  Dan  strik 
ing  into  Yankee  Doodle,  which  Mr.  Meek  thought  sounded 
like  a  psean  of  victory.  He  went  down  the  road  thinking  he 
had  not  only  made  a  fool  of  himself  but  that  in  a  day  or  two 
everybody  would  know  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

DISAPPOINTMENTS. 

WHILE  Mr.  Meek  was  having  his  interview  with 
Dan,  Bell  Blossom  was  in  her  chamber  giving  her 
self  up  to  reflection.  It  was  a  pleasant  apartment.  The  first 
rays  of  the  morning  sun,  streaming  over  the  meadows  and 
shimmering  through  the  branches  of  the  elms,  came  into  it, 
and  when  the  golden  orb  went  down  behind  the  western  hills 
there  was  no  more  delightful  place  where  one  might  sit  and 
watch  the  glory  fading  from  the  sky.  Bell  was  thinking  as 
she  never  thought  before  —  of  the  immediate  future  and  what 
might  be  beyond  it.  She  looked  out  upon  the  meadows,  but 
could  not  enter  into  the  peacefulness  that  rested  upon  them. 
She  was  troubled  in  mind ;  she  had  taken  one  false  step,  and 
was  thinking  of  taking  another.  She  had  agreed  with  Moses 
to  leave  her  home  and  go  with  him  —  not  in  open  day,  but 
under  cover  of  the  night  —  to  become  his  wife.  He  had  de 
clared  his  undying  love  for  her.  She  had  tried  to  overcome 
the  prejudices  of  her  parents  to  him,  but  not  having  suc 
ceeded,  was  going  with  him  to  Boston,  where  they  would  be 
married,  and  then,  after  a  few  weeks,  they  would  return  and  ask 
Tier  parents'  forgiveness,  and  all  would  be  well.  She  could 
not  be  married  at  home  against  the  wishes  of  her  father  and 
mother,  and  there  was  no  other  course. 

335 


35 6  Caleb  Krinkk. 

In  consenting  to  such  an  arrangement,  Bell  had  gone  con 
trary  to  her  own  sense  of  what  was  right.  As  a  ship  with 
loosened  cables,  though  still  moored  to  the  pier,  is  swerved 
by  the  wind  and  the  tide,  so  was  she  tossed  by  the  conflict 
ing  emotions  of  love  and  duty. 

It  was  on  Saturday  night  that  Bell  had  given  her  consent. 
Moses  had  arranged  to  call  for  her  at  midnight  on  Monday 
evening.  She  could  not  think  of  going  in  open  day,  of  say 
ing  to  her  father  and  mother,  "  I  am  going  away  with  Moses." 
The  thought  of  the  tears  they  would  shed  unnerved  her.  Nor 
did  Moses  want  any  parting  scene  ;  by  going  in  the  night 
and  in  secret  all  would  be  well.  So  it  had  been  arranged. 
Sunday  had  been  a  doleful  day.  Through  the  dreary  hours 
Bell  had  heard  the  raindrops  falling  on  the  withered  leaves, 
and  at  times,  as  she  sat  in  her  silent  chamber,  the  moisture 
had  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of  the  approaching 
hour.  But  love  had  charmed  her  with  its  rainbow  hues,  and 
she  saw  only  the  bright  dreamland  of  the  future. 

Through  the  day  the  clouds  had  been  moving  toward  the 
mountains,  and  there  could  be  no  fair  weather  till  the  wind 
sent  them  down  the  valley  again.  Were  they  typical  of  her 
life  ?  Was  not  she  herself  going  in  the  wrong  direction  after 
happiness?  Like  a  shuttle-cock  she  was  being  thrown  by 
conflicting  emotions  between  I  Ought  Not  and  I  Would,  and 
I  Would  thus  far  had  won. 

But  now  the  storm  was  over,  and  the  skies  were  bright. 
The  sun  had  gone  down,  and  the  stars  were  shining. 

"  So  will  the  future  be,"  said  Bell  to  herself.  "  I  love  him 
and  he  loves  me.  Father  and  mother  are  prejudiced  against 
Moses.  They  have  forgotten  their  own  early  love." 

Yet  how  could  she  go  counter  to  their  wishes? 

"  You  can  marry  Moses  if  you  choose,  but  it  will  be  a  great 
grief  to  us." 


Disappointments.  357 

That  had  been  her  father's  final  answer.  Bell  could  not 
forget  the  words,  and  at  that  evening  hour  they  were  coming 
to  her  as  they  never  had  come  before  ;  for  the  crickets  had 
taken  them  up,  and  their  monotonous  chirping  made  them  a 
doleful  miserere. 

''  Grief !  grief !  grief!  grief!"  they  said,  as  if  for  her  there 
could  be  nothing  but  grief  in  life.  "  What  a  grief  it  will  be 
to  mother,  when  she  comes  up  in  the  morning  to  see  why  I 
am  not  down  to  breakfast,  only  to  find  that  I  am  not  here." 
Grief !  There  it  was  again.  Flow  could  she  bring  grief  to 
one  who  had  given  her  being?  How  could  she,  an  only 
child,  pain  a  mother's  heart?  And  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
how  could  she  pull  up  by  the  roots,  as  it  were,  as  if  they  were 
worthless  weeds,  all  the  love  for  Moses  that  had  been  spring 
ing  up  in  her  heart's  garden  from  childhood  ? 

"  Grief!  grief!  grief!"  went  on  the  unceasing  refrain. 

It  was  not  yet  dark  ;  there  was  enough  of  twilight  still  lin 
gering  to  enable  Bell  to  see  who  was  passing.  She  heard 
footsteps  on  the  sidewalk,  and  looking  out,  saw  Dan,  who 
had  stopped  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  Good-evening,  Bell." 

"  Good-evening,  Dan." 

"  I  have  a  letter  for  you." 

"A  letter!" 

"  Yes  ;  but  don't  come  down.  I  will  send  it  up  to  you  in 
a  giffy." 

He  picked  up  a  chip,  partially  split  it  open  with  his  knife, 
inserted  the  letter  in  the  cleft,  and  tossed  it  into  her  window. 

"Thank  you." 

Dan  bowed  and  walked  away. 

"  From  Linda,"  said  Bell  to  herself,  looking  at  the  hand 
writing  in  the  twilight,  and  then  striking  a  light.  Thus  it  re  d  : 


358  Caleb  Krinkle. 

DEAR  BELL:  — 

When  you  are  reading  this  I  shall  be  far  away,  but  where,  I  do  not 
know.  And  now  T  am  going  to  tell  you  why  I  leave  home  so  suddenly, 
that  you  may  have  the  exact  truth,  and  not  what  Mrs.  Gabberly  or  any 
one  else  may  say." 

Then  came  the  account  of  the  advances  and  proposition 
made  by  Mr.  Meek. 

Now  you  know  all.  When  I  shall  return,  or  what  is  before  me,  I 
do  not  know.  I  only  know  that  I  am  doing  right.  O  Bell !  this  do 
ing  right  always  gives  unspeakable  joy.  I  shall  long  to  see 
your  smiling  face.  I  shall  long  to  feel  the  clasp  of  your  loving  hand. 
You  win  all  hearts.  Everybody  loves  you.  You  are  your  father's 
idol ;  his  life  is  bound  up  in  yours.  I  have  sometimes  thought,  per 
haps  you  did  not  know  how  dear  you  are  to  him.  If  you  want  to  fill 
his  life  with  peace,  don't  ever  do  any  thing  that  will  give  him  pain. 

You  know  that  we  talked  over  the  matter  between  yourself  and 
Moses  the  other  day.  You  know  what  I  said  then,  and  now,  after  ma 
ture  reflection,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  he  is  not  worthy  of  your 
love. 

I  know  that  it  is  hard  to  forget  all  the  sweet  past,  to  turn  our  faces 
from  the  scenes  that  enchanted  us,  but  there  can  be  no  disappoint 
ment  more  terrible  than  the  waking  from  a  dream  of  bliss,  and  uncling 
that  what  we  thought  was  worthy  of  our  love  is  as  false  as  it  was  fair. 
O  Bell !  I  know  all  about  it,  but  I  have  cast  the  past  behind  my  back, 
and  1  go  out  to  do  my  appointed  work  in  life,  whatever  it  may  be.  I 
loved  Caleb  with  my  whole  soul,  and  I  shall  never  give  my  affections 
to  another.  I  wish  him  nothing  but  happiness  with  the  one  whom  he 
has  chosen.  That  she  will  make  him  happier  than  I  ever  could  have 
done,  I  do  not  doubt ;  but  I  know  that  her  love  never  can  be  truer 
thar  mine  has  been  to  him. 

There  are  some  things  in  life  worse  than  maidenhood  to  be  borne, 
and  so,  with  composure,  if  not  with  cheerfulness,  I  take  up  my  bur 
den,  and  shall  carry  it  as  I  can,  knowing  that  time  will  diminish  its 
weight,  and  that  by-and-by  it  will  cease  to  be  a  burden. 

You  may  never  see  me  again  this  side  the  Better  Land,  but  God 
iless  and  keep  you,  Bell,  and  make  you  a  blessing  to  the  world. 

LINDA. 


Disappointments.  359 

Astonished,  amazed,  Bell  read  the  letter  a  second  time 
to  satisfy  herself  that  it  was  net  a  dream.  Mr.  Meek 
offering  himself  to  Linda !  threatening  to  take  away  Win 
ifred  if  she  would  not  accept  him  !  Linda  gone  !  Was  it 
possible?  And  she  herself  was  about  to  run  away  with 
this  man's  son  ! 

Bell  read  once  more  the  sober,  earnest  words  which 
Linda  had  written  in  regard  to  herself  and  her  parents, 
and  as  she  read  them,  the  glamour  of  love  which  had 
rested  upon  her  passed  away,  and  she  saw  the  character  of 
the  father  and  the  character  of  the  son  as  never  before. 
Her  love  to  Moses  had  been  so  great  that  she  had  ex 
cused  all  his  faults,  but  now,  as  in  the  light  of  a  magnifier, 
she  saw  how  glaring  they  were. 

"  He  is  not  worthy  of  your  love,"  that  was  Linda's  judg 
ment  ;  and  Linda's  mind  was  so  clear  that  she  always  saw 
things  in  their  true  light. 

The  twilight  was  gone.  From  field  and  pasture  and 
wayside  still  sounded  the  miserere  —  grief!  grief!  grief! 
but  mingled  with  the  monody  was  the  prayer,  "  God  bless 
and  keep  you,  Bell." 

While  Bell  was  thus  reflecting,  Moses  was  pacing  up  and 
down  the  counting-room,  waiting  for  his  father.  Mr.  Meek 
entered  the  apartment,  at  length,  still  disturbed  in  mind  at 
the  checkmate  he  had  received  from  Linda,  and  thought 
that  all  Millbrook  would  hear  of  it. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  this  hour,  father,  to  have 
you  come  and  shell  out  that  money,"  said  Moses. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  spending  a  good  deal  of 
money  these  clays,"  Mr.  Meek  replied. 

"  Well,  how  in  thunder  is  a  fellow  to  get  along  without 
spending  money,  I  should  like  to  know?  If  you  want 
me  to  live  on  water-gruel,  bean-porridge  and  hasty  pud- 


360  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

(ing,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  J  sha'n't  do  it.  You  forget 
that  I  move  in  the  best  society.  The  gentlemen  thai  I 
associate  with  spend  five,  ten,  and  even  twenty  thousand  a 
year,  some  of  them.  A  man  can't  be  stingy,  and  associate 
with  genteel  society.  Now  you  have  got  a  plenty  of 
money,  and  so  long  as  you  have  enough  to  enable  me 
to  live  in  good  style,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be 
pinched  ;  you  have  got  to  hand  over,  that  is  all." 

"  That  is  pretty  smart  talk  for  a  boy  to  make  to  his 
father." 

"  It  is  because  the  father  has  got  a  smart  boy,"  Moses 
replied.  The  father  was  forced  to  smile.  He  was 
pleased  ;  he  liked  smartness. 

"Well,  my  boy,  I  have  been  generous  with  you,  and  still 
want  to  be,  but  as  for  supplying  you  with  ten  thousand,  or 
five  thousand,  a  year,  I  sha'n't  do  it.  You  have  got  to 
earn,  at  least,  the  salt  in  your  porridge,  which  you  haven't 
done  vet." 

"  You  can't  expect  a  fellow  to  earn  his  living  till  he  gets 
started,  especially  in  the  law,  v.here  the  pettifoggers  are  as 
thick  as  grasshoppers  ?  Till  I  get  fairly  going,  you  musf 
supply  the  funds.  I  can't  go  back  with  less  than  five 
thousand  dollars." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  with  five  thousand  dollars  ? " 

"There  is  my  office  rent — and  rents  are  high;  there 
are  my  board  bills,  club  bills,  bills  at  the  livery  stable, 
cigar  bill,  and  lots  of  others.  And  then  a  fellow  who  goes 
in  first-class  society  can't  get  along  without  good  wines. 
You  can't  palm  off  New  Jersey  cider  for  champagne.  We 
are  accustomed  to  genuine  green  seal.  A  fellow  can't 
be  mean  ;  he  would  be  cut  dead  if  there  was  the  least 
suspicion  that  he  was  not  all  that  he  professed  to  be. 
The  society  that  I  go  in  is  the  very  soul  of  honor,  and  ycu 


Disappointments.  36 1 

don't  want  me  to  disgrace  myself  and  you  too,  do  you?  The 
fact  is,  father,  you  who  live  up  here  in  the  country,  have  no 
idea  as  to  how  much  it  costs  a  fellow,  who  is  anybody,  to 
get  on  in  Boston.  You  can't  shin  along  on  fifty  cents  a 
day,  nor  five  dollars  a  day ;  you  have  got  to  do  the  square 
thing.  There  are  so  many  little  items,  that  five  thousand 
melts  away  like  a  snow-bank  under  the  fence  on  a  hot 
spring  day." 

Moses  stopped  to  see  what  effect  the  plea  had  made, 
but  Mr.  Meek  said  nothing. 

"  Now  see  here,  father.  I  know  that  you  have  five 
thousand  dollars  in  the  safe,  here.  I  saw  you  put  it  in 
this  afternoon,  and  you  have  got  to  hand  it  over,  that 
is  all  there  is  about  it.  I  want  it  now,  for  I  have  got 
to  leave  pretty  soon,  to  get  to  the  cars  before  the  express 
gets  along." 

"Will  you  take  it  now,  or  wait  till  you  can  get  it?  " 

"I  will  take  it  now." 

"  Then  I'll  let  you  wait  till  you  can  get  it,"  said  the 
father,  rising  and  going  out. 

Moses  sat  a  few  moments  rubbing  his  chin  with  his 
hand,  then  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  slip  of  paper.  He 
closed  the  door  of  the  counting-room,  stepped  to  the  safe, 
and  manipulated  the  combination  lock.  Having  been  at 
home  so  long,  and  having  had  the  care  of  the  mails  dur 
ing  Mr.  Sharp's  absence,  he  had  been  intrusted  with  the 
combination  pertaining  to  the  lock.  The  door  of  the 
safe  opened  readily.  He  took  a  package  from  the  inner 
till  marked  ''  $oooo,';  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  leaving 
the  slip  of  paper  in  its  place,  closed  the  safe,  and  passed 
:>ut  cf  the  store,  humming  a  song. 

The  bell  struck  twelve,  midnight,  and,  as  the  last  btroke 
lied  away,  a  covered  buggy  stopped  in  front  of  Mr. 


362 

Blossom's  house.  The  curtains  to  Bell's  windows  were 
down  ;  there  was  no  light  visible  about  the  premises,  but 
the  front  door  slowly  opened. 

"  By  George !  she's  on  hand.  I  was  afraid  she 
wouldn't  be.  She's  mine,"  said  Moses  to  himself.  He 
was  mistaken,  however.  It  was  not  Bell,  but  her  father, 
who  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  Bell  has  concluded  not  to  go  with  you,  Moses,"  said 
Mr.  Blossom. 

The  whip  came  down  upon  the  flanks  of  the  horse,  and 
the  buggy  went  rattling  down  the  road  at  a  rapid  rate. 
So  Moses  took  his  departure  from  Millbrook,  —  but  not  as 
he  had  anticipated,  with  a  confiding  girl  sitting  by  his  side. 
While  riding  to  the  railroad,  he  had  abundant  leisure  to 
reflect  upon  the  proverb  — 

"  There  is  many  a  slip 
Between  the  cup  and  the  lip." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A    SHIPWRECK. 

CALER  was  once  more  in  his  own  room,  but  how  small 
and  mean  it  seemed  after  occupying  the  spacious  and 
gorgeously-furnished  apartment  at  the  Way  land  mansion. 
He  was  endeavoring  to  resume  his  studies,  but  his  mind 
refused  to  grapple  with  the  knotty  questions  of  the  legal 
profession  which  he  was  trying  to  master.  In  regard  to 
John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe,  he  could  not  tell  which  was 
which,  or  what  was  what.  The  printed  page  itself  was  all 
confusion,  the  lines  running  together,  and  the  whole  becom 
ing  an  incomprehensible  muddle.  He  clasped  his  throb 
bing  brow  with  his  hands,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  In 
spite  .of  all  his  efforts  to  keep  them  back,  the  tears  came  into 
his  eyes.  He  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  being  a  baby,  but 
he  was  weak,  irresolute  and  powerless.  He  had  taken  his 
departure  from  the  Wayland  mansion  against  the  protesta 
tions  of  Bertha  and  Doctor  Tragacanth,  and  now  he  was 
/broken  down,  with  a  dark  future  before  him.  There  was  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  Dr.  Tragacanth  entered. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Krinkle.  I  was  down  this  way,  and 
thought  I  would  just  drop  in  and  shake  hands  with  you. 
How  are  you  getting  on?" 

"  I  have  rather  a  bad  headache  to-day.  Perhaps  I  have 
tried  to  study  too  much." 

363 


364  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Ain't  quite  yourself,  eh  ?  " 

"  Not  quite." 

"  Head  a  little  confused?  " 

"That  is  just  it,  doctor." 

"  Can't  put  this,  that  and  the  other  together?  " 

"No,  I  can't  tell  whether  John  Doe  is  plaintiff  or  defend 
ant." 

"  Hand  trembles  a  little  now  and  then  ?  " 

Caleb  had  not  thought  of  it  before,  but,  now  that  the 
Doctor  mentioned  it,  he  could  feel  that  his  nerves  were 
unstrung. 

"  See  here,  young  man,  do  you  know  where  you  are 
going  ? " 

"  I  ain't  going  anywhere,  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are  ;  you  are  going  about  as  fast  as  you 
can  travel  to  the  asylum  for  the  insane." 

"  Oh,  no.  Doctor ;  I  ain't  as  bad  off  as  that." 

"  Keep  on,  and  you  will  get  there.  You  are  about  as  I 
expected  to  find  you.  While  you  were  on  Beacon  Street 
I  saw  that  you  were  like  a  hyena  in  a  cage  ;  you  chafed 
over  your  confinement,  and  were  not  getting  on  well 
because  you  could  not  bear  to  accept  the  hospitality  of 
Miss  Wayland,  and  I  consented  to  your  coming  away, 
although  knowing  that  you  would  be  as  weak  as  a  baby  in 
a  few  days,  and  here  you  are  with  your  nerves  trembling 
like  the  leaves  of  an  aspen  in  the  lightest  breeze,  and  the 
print  on  the  page  is  dancing  a  jig  before  your  eyes,  and 
your  brain  is  buzzing  like  a  bumble  bee." 

The  Doctor  had  so  accurately  described  his  condition 
that  Caleb  could  not  dispute  the  conclusion  he  had  drawn 
from  the  premises.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl,  and  he.  was 
startled  at  the  thought  of  what  might  happen  to  him. 

"What  am  I  to  do,  Doctor?" 


A  Shipwreck.  365 

"  That  is  just  what  I  want  to  talk  about.  In  the  first 
place,  we  will  throw  aside  all  these  sheepskin  volumes." 
The  Doctor,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  closed  "  Chitty 
on  Contracts,"  and  laid  it  one  side. 

"  There,  we've  done  with  that  for  the  present.  Now 
just  put  on  your  hat,  and  take  a  ride  with  me  ;  fresh  air 
will  do  you  good." 

Caleb  took  a  seat  in  the  Doctor's  chaise.  They  drove 
by  the  Common,  up  Beacon  Street,  past  the  Wayland 
mansion,  where  Bertha  was  sitting  by  the  window.  She 
bowed  to  them.  The  Doctor  drove  on  past  the  State 
House  and  the  Atheneum,  and  made  his  way  to  Pember- 
ton  Square." 

"  I   have   an   acquaintance  in  here  who  has  some  light 
and  agreeable  work  on  hand  that  he  cannot  attend  to  bin", 
self,  and  as  you  are  just  the  one  to  do  it,  I  have  brought 
you  round  to  see  him,"  said  the  Doctor. 

They  went  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  and  entered  the  office 
of  Mr.  Asset,  manager  of  estates.  Mr.  Asset  was  a  white- 
haired,  dignified  gentleman,  past  the  prime  of  life.  His 
side-whiskers  were  neatly  trimmed,  and  he  wore  gold- 
bowed  spectacles.  He  was  sitting  at  a  desk,  with  numerous 
papers  in  pigeon-holes  and  on  file  before  him. 

"This  is  the  young  gentleman  I  was  speaking  10  vuu 
about,'''  said  the  doctor. 

Mr.  Asset  bowed,  greeted  Caleb  cordially,  and  invited 
him  to  a  seat.  "  I  have  some  wild  lands  in  my  care 
at  the  headwaters  of  the  Androscoggin,"  said  Mr. 
Asset,  "  that  need  looking  after.  There  are  taxes 
to  be  paid,  some  boundaries  to  be  looked  up  and  lines 
run.  The  people  up  that  way,  sometimes,  by  mistake 
or  otherwise,  get  over  the  lines  and  cut  timber  that  does 
not  belong  to  them,  and  they  need  looking  after  ;  and,  as 


366  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

I  cannot  go  myself  and  attend  to  the  matter,  I  am  in  need 
of  some  one  to  do  it  for  me.  Doctor  Tragacanth  was 
kind  enough  to  mention  your  name.  Would  you  like  to 
undertake  the  service?" 

"  I  would  like  very  much  to  undertake  the  service,  if 
you  think  that  I  am  competent  to  perform  it,''  Caleb 
replied,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  which  had  opened  so 
suddenly  before  him,  of  getting  out  into  the  fresh  air. 

"  I  think  that  you  need  have  no  apprehension  on  that 
score.  You  probably  will  need  to  be  absent  several 
months.  You  will  take  your  own  time,  and,  in  regard  to 
remuneration,  I  wish  to  make  it  perfectly  satisfactory,  and 
your  expenses  will  be  paid.  Would  a  salary  at  the  rate  of 
three  thousand  dollars  a  year  be  an  adequate  compensa 
tion,  do  you  think?" 

If  Mr.  Asset  had  said  to  him,  "  I  have  a  big  pile  of 
money  lying  round  loose,  here,  just  help  yourself,"  Caleb 
could  not  have  been  more  surprised. 

"Oh,  I  think  that  is  a  great  deal  too  much.  I  cannot 
possibly  render  you  any  service  that  can  be  worth  that  sum 
per  annum." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  let  me  be  judge  of  that,"  said 
Mr.  Asset,  smiling.  "  So,  if  you  have  no  objection,  we  will 
consider  it  settled.  Now  here  is  a  map  of  the  locality 
that  you  are  to  visit,  and  you  will  find  in  this  pile  of  papers 
a  description  of  the  lands.  You  need  not  look  at  them 
now,  but  take  them  with  you,  and  call  upon  me  again, 
after  you  have  examined  them." 

Not  till  Caleb  was  in  his  room  again,  with  the  papers 
spread  out  before  him,  did  he  see  through  the  matter. 
When  he  saw  that  the  lands  he  was  to  look  after  belonged 
to  the  estate  of  John  Wayland,  deceased,  he  understood 
that  it  was  Bertha's  stratagem  to  give  him  employment 


A  Shipwreck,  367 

She  had  taken  this  method  of  showing  her  gratitude.  He 
saw  that  Mr.  Asset  was  only  her  business  manager,  and 
was  acting  under  her  direction.  How  kind  !  ho\v  consid 
erate  !  At  the  proper  lime  he  would  thank  her  from  an 
overflowing  heart.  Not  only  had  it  been  arranged  for  him 
to  have  employment,  but  Mr.  Asset  had  said,  "  If  you  wish 
to  make  a  little  visit  to  your  old  home,  do  so.  Take  your 
own  time.  He  saw  that  it  was  Bcn.ha,  and  not  Mr.  Asset, 
who  had  developed  the  plan. 

Caleb  had  maintained  a  constant  correspondence  with 
Linda.  He  had  lived  upon  her  letters  as  die  children  of 
Israel  lived  upon  manna  in  desert,  —  but  suddenly  they 
stopped  coming.  Since  his  convalescence  he  had  written 
frequently,  but  had  received  no  replies.  Could  it  be  that 
Linda  was  stricken  down  with  sickness?  Surely,  nothing 
else  would  prevent  her  writing.  The  thought  that  now  he 
was  to  see  her,  was  a  medicine.  It  gave  life  and  vigor  and 
an  exhilaration  of  spirit  such  as  he  had  not  experienced 
for  many  months.  He  was  impatient  to  be  gone. 

The  time  arrived  for  his  departure.  He  was  pacing  up 
and  down  the  depot,  waiting  for  the  starting  of  the  train. 
Men  with  valises  and  carpet-bags,  and  women  with  shawls 
and  bundles  in  their  hands,  were  hurrying  to  secure  their 
seats  in  the  cars.  Amid  the  hurry  and  bustle,  Caleb  felt 
a  hand  laid  upon  his  arm,  and,  turning,  beheld  Bertha. 

"  I  was  out  for  a  morning  walk,  and  knowing  that  you 
were  going  to  leave  the  city  by  this  train  to  look  after  my 
interests,  I  thought  that  I  would  see  you  off,"  she  said. 

"You  are  very  kind,  and  I  cannot  express  my  obliga 
tions  to  you."  He  wanted  to  add,  "for  arranging  this 
trip  for  me,  and  for  putting  me  in  a  way  to  earn  so  much 
money."  But  it  might  bring  a  flush  to  her  cheeks,  and  ht 
did  not  speak  the  words. 


368  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  You  will  take  good  care  of  yourself,  will  you  not  ? " 
said  Bertha. 

"  I  will  try  to." 

The  bell  rang.  They  shook  hanoL,  ana  the  train  moved 
away.  She  walked  along  the  platfonn  retaining  his  hand, 
till  compelled  to  relinquish  it  by  the  movement  of  the 
cars,  and  then  waved  him  good-bye  with  her  handkerchief. 

It  was  not  the  touch  of  he:  hand,  nor  the  sweetness  of 
her  voice,  but  rather  the  light  of  her  eyes  that  haunted 
him  as  he  sat  in  the  car,  absorbed  in  thought.  Even 
while  he  was  reading  the  morning  paper  about  a  terrible 
storm  on  the  lakes,  —  the  wreck  of  sailing  vessels,  the 
sinking  of  a  steamer,  and  the  fearful  loss  of  life,  he  was 
thinking  of  the  deep,  earnest  look  that  Bertha  had  given 
him. 

Gradually  he  became  absorbed  in  the  account  of  the 
sinking  of  the  steamer,  as  told  by  the  mate,  who,  with  a 
few  of  the  crew  and  passengers,  had  floated  to  tho  :shoi"? 
on  pieces  of  the  wreck.  This  was  the  mate's  story  :  — 

''The  steamer  sailed  from  Buffalo  for  Chicago.  Shi 
had  a  large  number  of  passengers.  Every  stateroom  and 
berth  was  occupied.  Besides  the  cabin  passengers,  we  h-ul 
a  full  complement  in  the  steerage  —  Norwegian  a^d  Ger 
man  emigrants  bound  for  Minne.-oia. 

"We  had  fine  weather  tin  pa  si.  Makinac,  and  then  (here 
came  up  a  stiff  breezj  whi.h  increased  to  a  gale,  and  by 
the  lime  we  were  opposite  'Death's  Door,'  —  the  entrance 
to  Green  Bay.  —  it  became  a  hurricane.  The  wind  caught 
the  crests  of  the  waves,  cut  them  off  as  with  a  knife  and 
hu'led  them  into  the  air,  filling  it  with  blinding  mist.  The 
rollers,  one  after  another,  struck  against  the  bows  of  the 
steamer,  making  it  tremble  from  stem  to  stern.  The  wind, 
ivhich  had  been  blowing  from  the  south  west,  suddenly 


A  Shipwreck.  369 

shifted  to  the  north-east,  and  produced  a  cross  sea,  in 
which  we  tossed,  tumbled  and  rolled,  the  waves  meanwhile 
smashing  the  bulwarks,  and  sweeping  every  thing  from  the 
decks. 

"The  clouds  hung  dark  and  low.  There  were  vivid  light 
nings  and  terrific  thunders.  Then  night  came  on,  and 
with  the  darkness  there  came  a  fiercer  wind,  a  more  furi 
ous  uproar.  When  the  storm  was  wildest  the  steamer  re 
fused  to  obey  her  helm,  and  then  we  discovered  that  the 
rudder-post  was  cracked.  We  got  a  spar  aft,  lashed  it 
across  the  stem,  reeved  .ropes  through  the  blocks  at  the 
ends,  and  then  Tom  Jones,  —  as  brave  a  fellow  as  ever 
lived, — volunteered  to  be  let  down  to  fasten  them  to  the 
rudder-blade.  We  tied  a  rope  around  his  body  under  his 
arms  and  let  him  down.  He  got  a  foothold  on  the  rudder, 
but  there  came  a  great  wave ;  we  felt  that  there  was  some 
thing  heavy  on  the  end  of  the  rope  and  drew  it  upj  only 
to  see  that  his  head  had  been  banged  to  a  jelly  ! 

"  Then  we  drifted.  We  pitched  head  foremost  into  the 
trough  of  the  sea,  and  couldn't  help  ourselves.  I  calcu 
lated  we  should  strike  about  midnight,  and  we  did  —  with 
a  shock  that  knocked  the  passengers  from  their  berths. 
Some  of  the  emigrants  rushed  upon  the  deck  in  the  dark 
ness,  and  were  swept  away  in  a  twinkling.  We  could  hear 
their  cries  for  a  moment,  and  then  there  was  nothing  but 
the  storm. 

"  At  daybreak  we  could  see  a  low  sandy  beach,  white 
with  foam,  and  a  dark  forest  beyond  it.  I  knew  that  the 
steamer  would  not  last  long,  and  the  passengers  knew  it. 
We  tried  to  get  out  the  boats,  but  they  were  stove  one 
after  another.  Then  the  passengers  were  in  despair. 
Some  of  them  rushed  here,  and  there  wringing  their  hands 
and  smiting  their  breasts.  Others  sat  down  and  covered 
24 


37°  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

their  faces  with  theirs  to  shut  the  scene  from  sight. 
Others  shouted  themselves  hoarse  in  calling  for  help, 
when  no  human  aid  could  come  to  them.  Others,  still, 
lowered  the  last  boat,  leaped  into  it,  only  to  be  hurled  into 
the  sea  and  disappear  beneath  the  waves. 

"  Amid  the  frantic  throng,  there  was  one  young  lady  so 
calm  and  self-possessed  that  all  had  marked  her  com 
posure.  She  was  an  American,  who,  with  a  little  girl,  had 
taken  a  passage  in  the  cabin  from  Buffalo.  The  child  had 
golden  hair,  and  I  remember  of  seeing  the  lady  smooth 
ing  it  with  her  hand,  and  of  hearing  her  say  to  the  child, 
'  Don't  be  afraid,  darling,  we  are  just  as  neat  Our  Father's 
home  here  as  anywhere  else.'  Then  she  tried  to  comfort  a 
poor  German  and  his  wife  whose  children  had  been  swept 
away.  The  man  could  speak  a  little  English,  and  the  lady 
was  saying  to  him  that  though  he  had  left  his  fatherland  to 
seek  a  home  in  this  country,  there  was  a  better  country 
whither  his  children  had  gone,  the  land  of  the  All  Father. 
And  why  weep  for  them,  if  it  was  the  Father's  will  that  he 
should  join  them  before  the  day  was  ended  ? " 

"  By  her  coolness,  the  lady  did  more  to  restore  order  and 
discipline  than  the  captain  by  his  commands.  Gradually 
the  steamer  began  to  break  up.  Suddenly  there  came  a 
huge  billow  that  swept  over  the  wreck,  breaking  bolts, 
wrenching  timber  from  timber,  and  plank  from  plank.  The 
wind  had  partially  changed,  and  some  portions  floated 
seaward  and  others  landward.  1  had  lashed  myself  to  a 
spar,  and  Moated.  I  could  see  the  passengers  clinging  to 
the  fragments  of  the  wreck,  dropping  off  one  by  one. 
Gradually  I  drifted  landward,  and  was  thrown  ashore." 

In  addition  to  this  story,  as  told  by  the  mate,  were  other 
accounts  gathered  from  the  few  that  had  been  saved,  and 
they  all  made  mention  of  a  calm  and  self-possessed  lady 
and  a  sweet  child  with  golden  hair. 


A  Shipwreck.  371 

Terrible  the  loss  of  life,  —  out  of  more  than  two  hundred 
persons  on  board,  not  fifty  saved  !  Caleb  ran  his  eye  over 
the  list  of  the  rescued,  but  saw  no  familiar  name.  An  ac 
quaintance —  a  young  man  —  had  just  gone  West,  and  the 
thought  came  that  possibly  he  might  have  taken  passage 
on  the  ill-fated  steamer.  Then  he  looked  at  the  list  of 
those  on  board  when  the  steamer  sailed  from  Buffalo. 
Suddenly  his  eye  was  arrested.  He  started  in  amazement. 
What !  Was  it  the  hallucination  of  a  disordered  brain,  or 
was  it  reality?  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again,  and 
read  the  names  — 

"  LINDA  FAIR. 
WINIFRED  VANZANT." 

What  was  the  meaning  of  it  ?  "  Linda  Fair  and  Winifred 
Vanzant !  "  he  repeated  to  himself.  So  there  were  two 
Linda's  and  two  Winifred's  in  the  world,  or  had  been.  It 
could  not  be  that  this  was  his  own  Linda.  She  had  not 
gone  \Vest.  It  must  be  a  coincidence.  Were  there  not 
one  hundred  or  more  John  Smith's  in  Boston,  and  four  or 
five  times  that  number  in  New  York  ?  It  could  not  have 
been  his  own  Linda,  nor  could  it  have  been  Winifred  Van 
zant  «f  Millbrook.  Whoever  they  were,  however,  they 
were  among  the  lost,  and  somebody  would  mourn  for 
them.  A  few  more  hours,  and  he  would  see  his  own 
Linda.  So  thinking,  he  tried  to  dismiss  the  catastrophe 
from  his  mind,  but  with  only  partial  success.  Linda  Fair 
and  Winifred  Vanzant  among  the  lost !  The  words  still 
haunted  him. 

The  cars  reached  the  Junction,  and  Caleb  took  a  seat  in 
Peter  Smart's  coach.  There  was  but  one  other  passenger, 
—  a  gentleman  with  keen  black  eyes  and  smoothly-shaven 
face. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  are  travelling  far  ? ''  the  gentleman 
inquired. 


37 2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  native  place,  Millbrook." 

"  It  is  a  very  nice  town,  I  understand." 

"  Very  pleasant  in  summer,  and  even  now,  in  Septem 
ber,  you  will  find  it  having  a  beauty  of  its  own." 

"  It  must  be  delightful  for  you  to  go  back  to  your  old 
home  to  see  your  father  and  mother." 

"  They  are  not  living,"  Caleb  replied. 

"  Pardon  me.  Then,  however  great  your  pleasure  may 
be,  your  visit  will  have  its  sad  associations." 

"  I  should  not  go,  only  I  am  on  my  way  to  another  sec 
tion  of  the  country,  and  as  my  letters  to  Millbrook  seem  to 
have  miscarried  of  late,  or  rather,  as  I  have  had  no 
answers  to  them,  I  wanted  to  see  what  was  the  matter." 

The  gentleman  looked  at  him  sharply,  Caleb  thought. 

"  The  mails  are  very  irregular  these  days.  1,  myself, 
have  had  several  letters  miscarry  of  late.  I  hope  that 
yours  contained  nothing  valuable,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  they  were  only  friendly  letters.  I  fear,  how-  • 
ever,  that  the  person  to  whom  they  were  addressed  may." 
be  sick." 

"  The  lady,  you  mean.  Excuse  me,  but  I  surmise  that 
there  is  a  lady  in  the  case.  I  hope  that  you  will  find  her 
well." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  There  is  a  lady,  I  am  happy  to  say, 
in  the  case." 

The  gentleman  went  on  to  ask  about  Millbrook :  how 
large  a  place  it  was  ;  how  much  business  was  done  there  ; 
how  many  stores  there  were  ;  and  having  ascertained  that 
Mr.,  Meek  did  a  large  business,  he  wanted  to  know  what 
sort  of  a  man  he  was  ;  how  much  family  he  had  ;  how 
many  clerks  he  employed.  The  questioning  seemed  to  be 
carried  on  with  a  view  of  making  himself  acquainted  with 
the  place  and  the  people,  as  if  he  had  a  particular  object 
in  view. 


A  Shipwreck.  373 

"  Do  you  think  that  it  would  be  a  good  place  to  set  up  a 
shoe  manufactory?" 

Caleb  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  man  was  in  the 
shoe  business,  and  was  on  the  lookout  for  an  eligible  loca 
tion  to  start  a  manufactory. 

"Perhaps  so.  The  people  now  are  doing  a  good  deal 
in  the  manufacture  of  clothing,  which  Mr.  Meek  is  carrying 
on." 

The  gentleman  made  a  memorandum  in  his  note-book, 
and  gave  himself  up  to  thought  the  remainder  of  the 
journey. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

THE    GREAT    SORROW. 

IT  was  noon  when  the  stage  rolled  up  the  wide  and 
level  street  beneath  the  elms  of  Millbrook.  When  op 
posite  the  house  of  Mr.  Blossom,  Peter  Smart  chirruped 
to  his  team,  just  as  he  had  for  a  third  of  a  century,  and 
the  horses  quickened  their  pace.  Caleb  looked  out  of  the 
coach,  thinking  that  possibly  Bell  might  be  sitting  by  the 
window,  or  that  he  should  see  her  in  the  garden,  or  in  the 
yard  in  front  of  the  house,  but  she  was  not  in  sight.  The 
Newfoundland  dog,  that  had  trotted  by  his  side  and  licked 
his  hand  in  that  early  morning  when  he  left  Millbrook, 
was  standing  by  the  roadside  wagging  his  tail. 

'f  How  do  you  do,  Pedro?  " 

Don  Pedro  gave  a  bark  of  welcome,  and  trotted  by  the 
coach,  looking  up  with  almost  human  eyes  at  Caleb. 

The  stage  whirled  up  to  the  hotel.  The  landlord  was 
standing  upon  the  piazza,  but  his  eyes  were  getting  dim, 
and  he  did  not  recognize  Caleb,  who  bade  his  fellow-pas 
sengers  good-bye,  and  went  up  the  hill  at  a  rapid  rate 
toward  Linda's  home.  He  would  not  stop  at  the  hotel  for 
dinner,  but  would  take  Linda  by  surprise.  How  delight 
ful  it  would  be  to  see  the  glad  look  on  her  face,  to  hear 
her  voice  once  more  ! 
374 


TJie  Great  Sorrow.  '    375 

Before  him  was  the  cottage.  The  vine  overspreading 
the  porch  was  growing  as  luxuriantly  as  ever;  the  blue 
smoke  was  curling  up  from  the  chimney  as  he  had  seen  it 
in  other  days.  He  was  by  the  gate,  —  the  spot  where  he 
had  said,  "  In  God's  good  time  I  will  come  to  you,"  and  he 
had  kept  his  promise.  Then  the  roses  were  in  bloom,  but 
on  that  September  day  the  leaves  were  brown  and  sear, 
and  there  were  red  seed-bulbs  instead  of  fragrant  flowers. 
The  thought  came,  "Do  human  lives  ever  run  to  seed? 
Does  human  character  blossom  and  decay,  and  bear  in  its 
death  the  power  of  reproduction  ?  Will  there  any  thing 
ever  come  out  of  my  life  ?  " 

The  past  came  <3ver  him  in  a  great  wave  as  he  stood 
there  in  the  path  bordered  by  decaying  flowers.  Below 
him  was  his  old  home.  The  house  needed  repainting. 
The  green  blinds  were  faded.  Some  of  the  palings  about 
the  garden  were  broken.  Mr.  Meek  had  not  kept  the 
premises  neat  and  trim. 

He  approached  the  house,  and  saw,  through  the  open 
door,  Mrs.  Dishaway  and  Dan  sitting  at  the  dinner-table. 

"  How  do  you  do? "  said  Caleb,  as  he  stood  in  the  door 
way.  Dan  arose,  came  toward  him,  and  looked  at  him  a 
moment. 

"  Is  it  Caleb,  or  somebody  else  ?" 

"It  is  Caleb." 

"  Well,  how  do  you  do  ? "  said  Dan,  shaking  hands. 

"  This  is  unexpected,"  said  Mrs.  Dishaway,  giving  him  a 
kiss,  but  looking  at  him  keenly.  It  was  not  a  very  cordial 
reception.  What  was  the  meaning  of  it?  And  no  Linda 
or  Winifred  present,  —  what  was  the  meaning  of  that  ?  " 

"  Where  is  Linda  ?  "  Caleb  asked,  with  the  words  "  Lvnda 
Fair  and  Winifred  Vanzant"  coursing  through  his  brain. 

"Gone,"  said  Dan. 


576  Caleb  Kr inkle, 

•'Gone!" 

Caleb  staggered  to  a  chair,  sat  down,  and  gasped  for 
breath. 

"  Tell  me  about  her,  please,"  he  said  at  length. 

"Caleb,"  said  Dan,  "let  us  understand  one  another  at 
the  outset.  What  have  you  come  here  for  ?  " 

"  What  have  I  come  here  for  ? " 

The  words  were  little  more  than  a  whisper,  and  the  lips 
were  white  that  uttered  them. 
.    "Yes,  sir." 

"  I  thought  that  I  should  see  Linda.  Why  didn't  you 
send  word  to  me  that—  '  He  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Send  word  to  a  scoundrel !  "  Dan  exclaimed. 

"  O  Dan,  I  never  expected  this  from  you  !  "  Caleb  gasped. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  say  it?  Haven't  you  deserted  the 
best  girl  that  ever  lived,  and  taken  up  with  another  for  the 
sake  of  getting  her  money?  I  didn't  think  you  could  be 
capable  of  such  meanness.  When  you  get  it,  it  may  turn 
to  dross  in  your  hands." 

Caleb  could  make  no  reply.  He  had  not  even  strength 
to  ask  for  an  explanation.  Linda  was  gone,  and  it  must 
have  been  his  own  Linda  that  had  perished  on  the  ill-fated 
steamer. 

"  It  is  very  cool  in  you  to  come  here  as  you  have,  Caleb. 
I  wonder  that  the  words  did  not  blister  your  tongue  when 
you  asked  for  her." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Dan  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dishaway,  noticing  the 
struggle  which  Caleb  was  having  with  his  emotions. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? "  Caleb  asked. 

"  Didn't  Moses  come  home  from  Boston  and  tell  every 
body  you  had  saved  that  rich  girl's  life,  and  that  the 
chances  were  you  would  marry  her  ?  Didn't  Mrs.  Gabberly 
tell  us  that  she  saw  you  down  on  the  beach  with  her,  as 


TJie  Great  Sorrow.  37| 

loving  as  two  doves?  If  it  ain't  so,  why  didn't  you  answer 
Linda's  letters?" 

"Why  didn't  I  answer  her  letters?  I  wrote  to  her  as 
soon  as  I  could  hold  a  pen,  and  have  written  often  since. 
Why  did  she  not  write  to  me  ? " 

"  She  did,  and  you  took  no  notice  of  her.  You  filled 
her  life  with  sorrow,  and  now  that  she  is  gone,  you  come 
here  to  accuse  her  of  perfidy." 

"  O  Dan  !  I  never  could  have  believed  that  in  the  hour 
of  the  greatest  grief  that  ever  can  come  to  me  you  could 
be  so  cruel." 

Caleb  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  leaned  for 
ward,  resting  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  overwhelmed  by  the 
great  wave  of  sorrow  which  had  rolled  so  suddenly  upon 
him.  Dan  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.  Evidently 
there  was  something  that  needed  to  be  explained.  Besides, 
he  was  touched  by  Caleb's  emotion. 

"I  don't  understand  you,  White  Hair,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Now  that  Linda  is  dead,  let  us  have  no  recrimination,'' 
said  Caleb. 

"Linda  dead  !  Who  said  she  was  dead?  I  said  she  was 
gone, — gone  to  escape  the  clutches  of  that  mean,  contempti 
ble  scoundrel,  Meek  !  "  Dan  exclaimed. 

Caleb  made  no  reply,  but  took  the  newspaper  from  his 
pocket,  and,  pointing  to  the  account  of  the  terrible  disaster, 
handed  it  to  Dan,  turning  away,  unable  longer  to  conceal  his 
emotions. 

Dan  saw  the  capitals  at  the  head  of  the  account.  His  eye 
ran  down  the  page,  and  saw  the  names,  Linda  Fair  and  Wini 
fred  Vanzant  among  the  lost.  The  paper  dropped  from  his 
hands.  He  groaned  in  agony. 

Leave  them  there  —  the  stricken  ones  —  estranged  no 
longer,  but  weeping  together  over  the  terrible  news. 


378  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

Tne  mournful  intelligence  meanwhile  was  abroad.  The 
landlord  was  reading  it  in  the  hotel ;  the  clerks  were  reading 
it  in  the  store ;  Mr.  Makepeace  was  reading  it  in  his  office, 
and  Mrs.  Gabberly  was  telling  it  from  house  to  house.  It 
was  a  sad  afternoon  in  Millbrook.  Everybody  knew  that 
Linda  had  fled  to  baffle  Mr.  Meek  in  his  designs,  for  Bell  had 
read  Linda's  letter  to  her  intimate  friends.  Fleeing  from  one 
peril  she  had  gone  to  another  infinitely  greater,  and  had 
perished. 

We  value  our  treasures  most  when  we  have  lost  them.  Not 
till  our  loved  ones  have  left  us  do  we  fully  comprehend  how 
dear  they  were.  How  hard  to  realize  that  they  never  will  re 
turn,  that  we  never  again  shall  take  them  by  the  hand  !  Then 
we  think  of  the  many  things  we  wanted  to  do  for  them  ;  then 
we  recall  their  virtues ;  then  we  know  how  kind  and  good 
and  lovable  they  were. 

The  people  in  Millbrook  had  loved  Linda  for  her  kindness 
and  goodness,  and  had  respected  her  for  her  womanhood 
and  her  nobility  of  character.  While  a  girl  in  years,  she  had 
been  a  true  woman  in  all  her  actions.  Young  gentlemen  who 
had  talked  familiarly  with  Bell,  and  other  young  ladies,  stud 
ied  their  words  when  conversing  with  Linda.  Her  mates, 
when  in  trouble,  came  to  her  for  advice  and  consolation,  and 
now  their  adviser  and  consoler  was  gone,  never  to  return. 
Now  they  remembered  that  she  had  ever  been  ready  to  help 
when  help  was  needed,  that  she  had  been  to  those  in  distress 
a  comforter,  wise  when  everybody  else  was  perplexed,  cheer 
ful  when  others  were  down-hearted.  Millbrook  would  be 
lonely  now. 

The  people  were  indignant  at  the  course  pursued  by  Mr. 
Meek.  Linda's  death  could  be  laid  at  his  door,  and  not 
only  Linda's,  but  Winifred's.  No  need  now  for  Mr.  Meek 
to .  ask  Dan  to  send  for  Linda ;  she  had  gone  where  no 


TJie  Great  Sorrow.  379 

human  voice  could  reach  her.  No  need  now  to  make  ap 
plication  for  the  guardianship  of  Winifred  ;  the  waves  would 
not  give  her  up. 

Mr.  Meek  was  in  trouble.  While  there  was  a  rising  of 
indignation  against  Mr.  Meek  on  the  part  of  the  people  there 
was  also  an  uprising  of  Mr.  Meek's  conscience  against  him 
self.  He  reproached  himself  for  what  he  had  done.  Sharp 
and  shrewd  and  unscrupulous  as  he  was  in  business,  wicked 
as  he  'had  been  in  life,  he  was  not  wholly  lost  to  moral  re 
sponsibility.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  apartment  in  agony, 
wishing  that  he  could  blot  out  the  past ;  that  he  could  call 
the  dead  to  life.  One  by  one  his  bright  dreams  of  life  had 
faded  ;  one  by  one  his  plans  had  been  overturned.  For  the 
past  there  was  nothing  but  reproach,  while  the  future  was 
utterly  cheerless. 

Sunday  morning  came.  Mournfully  tolled  the  bell  —  toll 
ing  for  the  loved  and  lost.  The  people  on  their  way  to 
meeting  thought  only  of  her  whom  they  had  seen  so  often 
walking  beneath  the  elms  and  glorifying  the  day  by  her 
presence.  Nevermore  would  they  see  the  little  flock  of 
children,  her  class  in  the  Sunday  school  running  to  clasp 
her  by  the  hand.  It  would  have  been  some  consolation  to 
have  thought  of  her  as  asleep  in  the  yard  behind  the  church, 
beside  her  father  and  mother,  and  there  would  have  been 
some  relief  to  their  sorrow  if  they  could  have  gazed  upon  her 
new-made  grave,  but  now  they  could  only  think  of  the  terri 
ble  scene  of  the  shipwreck,  and  of  the  winds  and  waves  as 
forever  chanting  a  dirge  for  her. 

Deeper  their  grief  when  they  entered  the  church,  and  saw 
her  vacant  chair  in  the  singers'  seats,  and  a  black  mantle  ly 
ing  upon  it,  and  the  organ  draped  in  mourning,  —  for  so  had 
the  members  of  the  choir  manifested  their  sorrow.  When 


380  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  bell  had  ceased  its  tolling,  and  the  minister  was  ascend 
ing  the  pulpit  stairs,  the  organ  began  to  play.  Mournful  the 
strain.  Then  with  hushed  voices  the  choir  sang,  "  Blessed 
are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord."  But  the  tears  of  the 
congregation  flowed  afresh  when  they  missed  the  one  sweet 
voice  that  had  so  often  thrilled  them.  They  thought  of  it  as 
hushed  on  earth,  but  tuneful  evermore  in  heaven. 

Then  the  minister,  with  faltering  voice,  prayed  that  the  great 
affliction  might  be  for  their  earthly  and  eternal  good,  that  he 
who  had  fondly  hoped  to  spend  his  years  on  earth  with  her, 
might  think  of  her  as  having  gone  on  before  him  to  a  better 
world,  and  that  such  a  life  as  hers  for  whom  he  mourned  —  so 
brief  and  yet  so  full,  so  rounded  and  complete,  might  ever 
be  a  blessed  remembrance.  And  that  the  congregation,  as 
they  recalled  her  deeds  of  kindness,  her  goodness,  her  devo 
tion  to  truth,  her  consecration  to  every  good  work,  might 
they  be  moved  to  emulate  her  example. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

WHAT    MR.    KETCHUM    DISCOVERED. 

MR.  MEEK  was  in  his  counting-room,  and  the  spiders 
were  looking  at  him.  Never  before  had  they  seen 
such  angry  wrinkles  in  his  forehead  ;  never  before  had  they 
seen  him  pluck  his  whiskers  so  furiously.  Having  opened  a 
draw  in  his  safe,  to  take  a  look  at  a  package  marked 
"  $5000,"  he  had  found  a  slip  of  paper  instead,  and  this 
was  what  he  was  reading  :  — 

FATHER  :  If  you  thought  I  was  going  back  to  Boston  without  a 
cent  of  money  in  my  pocket,  you  was  confoundedly  mistaken.  As  you 
wouldn't  give  down,  I  have  helped  myself.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
for  this,  but  shall  want  a  lot  more  by-and-by  MOSES. 

"  So  that  is  the  way  he  does  it !  "  said  Mr.  Meek  to  him 
self.  "  That  is  the  boy  I've  brought  up ;  labored  for ; 
raked  and  scraped  for  !  A  fine  lawyer  he'll  make  !  His 
speeches  in  Congress  will  astonish  the  world  !  He'll  reflect 
honor  on  his  father  !  Will  want  more  when  that  is  gone  ! 
This  all  comes  from  letting  him  know  the  combination  of 
the  lock.  But  I'll  have  my  revenge  on  him  !  He  has  left 
his  trunk  behind,  and  has  sent  up  word  to  have  Peter  Smart 
take  it  down  this  very  afternoon,  but  we  will  see  about  that." 

Mr.  Meek  looked  at  his  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  quite 
time  for  Peter  to  be  along,  and  so,  putting  on  his  hat,  went 


382  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

into  the  street.  He  saw  the  stage  coming  over  the  hill  ,ind 
turning  up  to  his  house  to  take  on  the  trunk.  Quickening 
his  pace,  he  reached  the  house  just  as  John  and  the  driver 
were  lifting  it  upon  the  rack. 

"Sjehcre,  you  may  just  take  that  off  again,"  said  Mr. 
Meek. 

"  How's  that?"  Peter  asked. 

"  It  isn't  to  go." 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Moses,  requesting  me  to  call  for  it," 
said  the  driver. 

"  I  countermand  the  order.  He's  been  playing  a  little 
game  upon  me,  and  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  be  even  with  him. 
Take  the  trunk  into  the  house  again,  John." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Peter,  looking  keenly  at  Mr. 
Meek,  —  noticing  that  he  was  a  good  deal  disturbed. 

John  carried  the  trunk  into  the  hall,  and  the  stage  rolled 
on.  Mr.  Meek  noticed  a  gray-bearded  man,  with  sharp 
eyes,  in  the  coach.  He  thought  that  he  had  seen  those 
eyes  somewhere,  but  could  not  recall  the  time  or  place. 
He  went  back  to  his  counting-room,  meditating  upon  what 
sort  of  a  letter  he  should  write  to  Moses. 

During  the  afternoon  a  gentleman  entered  the  store,  and 
introduced  himself  as  Mr.  Ketchum. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  you  a  few  moments  on  a  private 
matter,  if  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Ketchum. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  inviting  him  into  the 
counting-room  and  closing  the  door. 

The  man  was  smoothly  shaven,  and  had  eyes  so  like  those 
of  the  gray-bearded  man,  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  coach, 
that  Mr.  Meek  could  have  almost  taken  his  oath  that  the 
gentlemen  must  be  brothers. 

"A  sharp  man,  —  a  man  who  is  after  something  in  partic 
ular.  I  must  have  my  wits  about  me,"  said  Mr.  Meek  to 
himself. 


What  Mr.  Ketch  urn  Discovered.  383 

"  I  am  an  agent  of  the.  Post  Office  Department,  Mr  Meek, 
and  as  there  have  been  some  irregularities  connected  with 
the  mails  in  this  region,  of  late,  I  have  called  to  make  what 
investigation  I  can  as  to  the  cause,  and  am  sorry  to  say  that 
there  are  some  suspicions,  —  well  grounded,  I  fear  they  may 
be,  —  in  regard  to  this  office  !  " 

"  This  office  !  "  Mr.  Meek  exclaimed. 

"  Reports  have  come  to  the  Department,"  Mr.  Ketchum 
went  on,  "  that  money,  to  a  considerable  amount,  has  been 
abstracted  from  the  mails,  and  I  wish  to  ascertain,  if  possible, 
who  the  guilty  party  may  be.  Of  course,  no  suspicion 
attaches  to  yourself,  for  it  is  very  well  understood  that,  though 
you  are  post-master,  you  have  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
exchanging  or  sorting  the  mail." 

"  I  will  aid  you  in  every  possible  way." 

"  You  have  several  clerks,  I  notice." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  cannot  imagine  which  of  them  can  be  the 
guilty  party.  I  have  placed  unbounded  confidence  in  them 
all." 

"  We  will  not  mistrust  anyone  until  we  can  get  hold  of 
some  evidence.  Men  are  presumed  to  be  innocent  until 
found  guilty." 

Mr.  Meek  was  glad  to  see  that  Mr.  Ketchum  was  so  con 
siderate. 

"  The  irregularities  commenced  some  two  or  three  months 
ago,  and  they  have  continued  till  the  present  time.  Now, 
were  any  of  your  clerks  absent  during  that  time?  " 

"  Yes  \  my  head  salesman,  Mr.  Sharp,  has  been  absent  and 
has  but  just  returned." 

"  Then  we  can  say  at  the  outset  that  no  suspicion  can 
attach  to  him.  How  many  other  employees  have  you?  " 

"Three." 

"  Do  they  all  have  a  hand  in  making-up  and  sorting  the 
mails  ?  " 


384  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Not  necessarily ;  it  is  Mr.  Sharp's  business." 

"  But  he  has  not  been  here." 

"My  son  has  been  doing  it  in  his  absence."  Mr.  Meek 
said  it  with  visible  emotion. 

"  It  is  a  painful  duty  that  I  have  to  perform,  Mr.  Meek, 
but  I  cannot  turn  back  from  it.  I  wish  to  do  every  thing  in 
a  quiet  way,  and  if  you  please,  I  should  like  to  examine  the 
chamber  which  your  son  occupied  when  he  was  at  home. 
He  is  in  Boston  now,  I  believe?  " 

Mr.  Meek  bowed,  but  was  astonished  to  hear  it.  How 
did  Mr.  Ketchum  know  that  Moses  was  in  Boston?  He 
could  not  imagine. 

'•'  I  will  show  the  chamber  to  you  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,"  Mr.  Meek  replied,  confident  that  if  Moses  had 
taken  any  thing  from  the  mails,  he  had  been  smart  enough 
to  destroy  all  evidence  of  the  fact. 

Little  did  Mr.  Meek  suspect,  as  they  walked  down  the 
street,  that  the  smooth-faced  gentleman  by  his  side  was 
the  same  individual  that  he  had  seen  in  Millbrook  ten  days 
before  wearing  green  goggles,  and  dressed  in  sheep's  gray. 
Little  did  the  clerks  comprehend  that  the  gentleman  who 
had  just  gone  out  with  Mr.  Meek,  was  the  gawkey  fellow 
with  a  shock  of  red  hair  and  red  whiskers,  who  carne  into 
the  store  one  noon  and  bought  a  couple  of  crackers  and  a 
piece  of  cheese  for  his  dinner,  and  while  Moses  was 
changing  the  mail,  stood  gaping  at  him  to  see  how  he  did 
it,  taking  now  a  bite  at  the  cheese  and  now  at  the  cracker, 
and  when  he  had  finished  his  lunch  filled  an  old  short- 
stemmed  pipe  with  tobacco,  and  while  smoking,  undertook 
to  read  the  hand-bills  on  the  walls.  Little  did  Mr.  Meek 
mistrust  that  the  gray-bearded  gentleman  whom  he  had 
seen  in  the  coach  a  few  hours  before  and  the  smoothly- 
shaved  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  that  moment  talking 


What  Mr.  Kctchum  Discovered.  385 

were  one  and  the  same,  and  that  Mr.  Ketchum,  by  his  dis 
guises,  by  his  sharp  eyes,  had  obtained  such  a  chain  of 
circumstances  that  he  was  very  sure  Moses  Meek  was 
was  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  irregularities  in  the  mails  on 
that  route.  Little  did  Caleb  mistrust  that  the  man  who 
was  going  to  set  up  a  shoe  manufactory,  was  Mr.  Ketchum, 
special  detective  of  the  Post  Office  Department,  on  the 
track  of  Moses. 

Mr.  Meek  and  Mr.  Ketchum  went  into  Moses'  chamber, 
and  the  detective  examined  the  draws  in  the  bureau,  turned 
over  the  things  in  the  closet,  and  on  the  table,  but  discov 
ered  nothing; 

"We  will  now  look  at  your  son's  trunk,  if  you  please," 
said  Mr.  Ketchum." 

"  You  forget  that  my  son  is  in  Boston,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"No  ;  I  know  very  well  that  he  is  there,  but  his  trunk  is 
clown-stairs  in  the  hall." 

Mr.  Meek  was  astonished.  Who  was  this  man  ?  How 
did  he  know  the  trunk  was  there? 

"I  have  no  key  that  will  open  it,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"Pe.haps  we  shall  be  able  to  get  it  open,  nevertheless. 
We  will  look  at  it,  if  you  please." 

They  descended  the  stairs,  and  Mr.  Ketchum,  after  ex 
amining  the  lock  a  moment,  selected  a  key  from  one  of 
many  in  his  pocket,  and  opened  the  trunk.  He  took  up  a 
package. 

"  Perhaps  you  understand  what  this  is  ?"  said  the  detec 
tive. 

"  Postage  stamps,  I  suppose,"  Mr.  Meek  replied,  his 
heart  sinking  within  him  as  he  recognized  a  government 
package. 

Further  examination  brought  to  light  drafts,  checks, 
photographs  and  envelopes,  directed  to  well-known  busi 
ness  men  as  well  as  to  publishers  of  newspapers.  23 


386  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Your  son  was  not  very  skillful  in  covering  up  his 
tracks." 

Mr.  Meek  made  no  reply.  Mr.  Ketchum  having  taken 
possession  of  the  articles  he  had  found,  closed  the  trunk, 
re-locked  it.  and  the  two  walked  back  towards  the  store. 

"Will  you  please  come  into  the  counting-room;  I  want 
to  have  a  little  talk  upon  this  unpleasant  business,"  said 
Mr.  Meek. 

"With  pleasure,  sir,  but  I  will  go  to  my  room  in  the  hotel 
a  moment  first,"  Mr.  Ketchum  replied. 

The  detective  passed  on  to  the  hotel,  while  Mr.  Meek 
went  into  his  counting-room  and  sat  down  to  reflect  upon 
the  state  of  affairs.  While  sitting  there,  he  saw  Mr.  Ketch 
um  in  consultation  with  a  man  upon  the  piazza  of  the 
Flying  Eagle. 

Mr.  Ketchum  looked  at  his  watch,  and  sat  clown  to  write 
something  upon  a  slip  of  paper,  while  the  other  went  into 
the  stable.  A  moment  later,  the  hostler  was  harnessing  a 
horse.  A  thought  came  to  Mr.  Meek.  He  opened  a 
draw,  took  up  a  field-glass,  and  brought  Mr.  Ketchum  so 
near  that  he  could  see  that  the  paper  in  his  hand  was  a 
blank  of  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Company. 

Mr.  Ketchum  finished  his  writing,  and  gave  it  to  the 
other,  who  drove  away  in  a  buggy  at  a  rapid  pace,  while  he 
himself  went  into  the  hotel. 

John,  who  was  exercising  Mr.  Meek's  fast-trotting  horse, 
drove  up  at  the  moment,  and  halted  before  the  door  of  the 
store,  thinking  perhaps  that  Mr.  Meek  might  want  to  take 
a  little  drive.  But  Mr.  Meek  was  thinking  of  something 
else. 

"  It  closes  at  eight.  John  is  here.  I  can  get  ahead  of 
him,"  said  Mr.  Meek  to  himself.  He  seized  a  pen,  wrote; 
a  message  upon  a  telegraph  blank,  and  called  John  into 
the  counting-room. 


W/iat  Mr.  Ketchum  Discovered.  387 

"Did  you  see  that  man  leave  the  hotel,  just  now?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"He  has  gone  to  the  Junction  with  a  dispatch,  and  I 
want  you  to  get  ahead  of  him  with  this.  Drive  up  towards 
home  slowly,  cross  the  bridge,  take  the  road  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  and  then  go  like  lightning.  Don't  stop 
for  hills,  or  hollows,  or  any  thing.  You  may  kill  the  horse, 
but  get  ahead,  and  just  give  this  to  the  operator."  Mr. 
Meek  put  a  five-dollar  bill  into  John's  hand.  "  And 
there's  another  for  yourself.  Tell  the  operator  that  it  is  a 
cipher  dispatch.  If  you  can  plan  any  way  to  keep  the 
other  dispatch  from  being  sent  to-night  I  will  give  you 
another  five-dollar  bill  when  you  get  back.  You  under 
stand?" 

"  You  may  bet  on  me,  Mr.  Meek,"  said  John,  jumping 
into  the  light  buggy,  and  driving  slowly  up  the  street,  as  if 
to  show  off  the  gait  of  the  horse. 

"A  fine  animal  you  have  there,"  said  Mr.  Ketchum,  as 
he  came  across  the  street  to  Mr.  Meek,  who  was  standing 
in  the  door. 

"  Yes,  pretty  good;  and,  if  you  would  like,  we  will  take  a 
drive  after  tea,  if  John  gets  back  in  season." 

"  Thank  you,"  Mr.  Ketchum  replied,  not  knowing  that  it 
was  a  diplomatic  speech. 

They  went  into  the  counting-room. 

"  I  am  very  much  pained  at  the  discovery  you  have 
made,''  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you.  I  feel  for  you,  but  I  could 
not  shrink  from  my  duty,"  the  detective  replied. 

"Of  course  not,  Mr.  Ketchum,  and  I  cannot  thank  you 
enough  for  the  exceeding  delicacy  with  which  you  have 
performed  it ;  but  isn't  there  some  way  of  preventing  this 
from  being  made  public  ?  " 


388  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  I  think  not.  You  know  that  the  law  is  very  severe.  I 
have  already  sent  a  telegraph  despatch  ordering  the  arrest 
of  your  son.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Meek,  I  have  been  pretty 
well  informed  in  regard  to  his  doings  for  several  weeks. 
I  have  been  riding  up  and  down  on  the  coach,  and  have 
seen  him  change  the  mails  ;  and  although  I  did  not  see 
him  take  any  letters,  I  was  well  satisfied  that  he  was  the 
guilty  party.  Perhaps  you  did  not  know  that  I  was  on  the 
stage  this  morning,  and  was  very  much  gratified  to  find  that 
his  trunk  was  here.  I  saw  John  when  he  brought  it 
down  from  the  chamber,  and  I  heard  you  yourself  say  to 
Peter  Smart,  that  it  was  not  to  go.  I  need  not  say  that  it 
gave  me  pleasure  to  see  John  put  it  behind  the  door  in  the 
hall." 

"I  had  hoped  that  there  might  be  some  way  of  com 
promising  the  matter,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"Impossible.  The  law  must  take  its  course.  Your  son 
will  probably  be  arrested  to-night." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said?" 

"  Nothing." 

The  waiter  at  the  hotel  was  ringing  the  bell  for  tea,  and 
Mr.  Ketchum  bade  Mr.  Meek  good-evening  and  left  the 
store. 

What  a  cloud  of  dust  John  was  leaving  behind  him  ! 
Up  hill  and  down  hill,  through  the  hollows,  past  farm 
houses,  where  the  children  were  running  to  the  window 
and  looking  out  into  the  dusk  to  see  who  it  was  that  was 
going  like  the  wind,  wondering  whether  Mr,  Meek  had  a 
wager  with  somebody,  or  whether  John  was  timing  the 
horse,  —  so  he  went. 

It  was  half-past  seven  when  John  stepped  into  the  tele 
graph  office,  and  handed  Mr.  Meek's  despatch  through  the 
pigeon-hole  to  the  operator. 


What  Mr.  Ketchum  Discovered.  389 

"I  want  it  to  go  right  away;  it  is  a  cipher  despatch, — 

very  important,"  said  John. 

"  It  must  take  its  turn.  Doubtful  if  I  can  get  it  off  to 
night  ;  there  are  several  messages  ahead  of  it,"  the  opera 
tor  replied,  looking  at  his  watch. 

John  tucked  something  into  the  operator's  vest-pocket, 
and  the  operator  having  caught  a  glimpse  of  it,  consulted 
his  watch  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  having  made  up  his 
mind  that  it  was  best  to  strain  a  point,  if  need  be,  to  ac 
commodate  so  good  a  customer  as  Mr.  Meek,  said,  "  I 
guess  I  can  get  it  through." 

He  sat  down  to  his  instrument,  gave  a  few  taps,  and 
"click,  click,  click"  came  back  to  him.  Then  he  rattled 
at  the  key  in  a  lively  manner  for  a  minute. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Meek  that  it  is  all  right,"  he  said. 

John,  having  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  right,  went  out 
to  look  after  his  horse. 

It  wanted  five  minutes  to  eight  when  the  man  who  had 
started  from  the  hotel  drove  up  to  the  station.  He  threw 
down  the  reins,  and  ran  into  the  telegraph  office. 

John  was  near  by,  and  had  his  whip  in  his  hand.  He 
stepped  lightly  forward,  gave  the  panting  horse  a  cut  upon 
the  (lank,  and  the  animal,  although  badly  blown,  started 
off  at  a  brisk  trot.  John  looked  in  through  the  window, 
and  saw  the  stranger  with  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  feeling 
for  the  despatch. 

"  Your  horse  is  running  away,  sir !  "  John  shouted. 

The  stranger  did  not  stop  to  find  the  despatch,  but 
darted  out  into  the  darkness. 

"Whoa!  Whoa!"  he  cried,  giving  chase. 

He  caught  up  with  the  horse  a  mile  away,  but  when  he 
came  back  the  telegraph  office  was  closed,  the  lights  ex 
tinguished,  and  the  operator  was  on  his  way  to  see  an 


390  Caleb  Krinkle. 


adorable  young  lady  whom  he  held  in  high  esteem,  and 
was  very  happy  to  find  a  five-dollar  bill  lying  loose  in  his 
vest-pocket,  which  got  there  in  some  mysterious  way. 

The  shock  that  had  come  to  Caleb  unmanned  him. 
He  was  unfit  for  work,  and  waited  for  the  return  of  his 
strength  before  resuming  his  journey. 

With  a  swelling  heart  and  rising  indignation  against 
Mr.  Meek,  he  heard  Dan's  story  of  Linda's  trials,  and 
received  with  grateful  emotion  the  sympathy  of  those 
whom  he  honored  and  respected.  But  oh,  the  loneliness, 
the  emptiness,  with  Linda  gone  !  He  listened  for  her  foot 
steps,  though  knowing  that  he  never  would  hear  them 
again.  But  there  was  a  mystery  that  neither  himself  nor 
Dan  nor  Bell  could  fathom.  What  had  become  of  the 
letters  which  Linda  had  written  to  him  ?  What  had  be 
come  of  those  which  he  had  written  to  her  ? 

He  was  walking  upon  the  street,  and  encountered  his 
fellow  passenger  of  the  stage. 

"  Do  you  find  Millbrook  a  favorable  location  for  the  es 
tablishment  of  a  shoe  manufactory?"  Caleb  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  shall  start  one  at  present,"  replied 
Mr.  Ketchum,  smiling.  "  By  the  way,"  he  added,  "  I  have 
something  about  me  that  may  interest  you,"  and  he  handed 
Caleb  a  package  of  letters,  —  his  own  and  Linda's. 

"  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  "  Caleb  asked  in  astonish 
ment 

"  Moses  Meek  tampered  with  the  mails  while  here.  I 
am  not  in  the  shoe  business,  but  agent  of  the  post  office, 
and  obtained  these  from  his  trunk.  They  are  at  your  ser 
vice, —  they  belong  to  you." 

"  Moses  Meek  a  mail  robber!" 

"  Yes,  and  is  in  limbo  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Ketchum 
as  he  passed  on. 


What  Mr.  Ketchum  Discovered.  391 

On  this  point,  however,  he  was  mistaken.  On  that 
same  morning,  Moses,  having  burned  the  gas  through  the 
night  in  an  upper  chamber  down  town,  reached  his  room 
at  the  West  End.  As  he  entered  his  room,  he  saw  a 
yellow  envelope  on  the  floor,  which  had  been  tucked  under 
the  door  at  eight,  p.  M.  the  night  before.  He  tore  open 
the  envelope,  and  read  what  to  the  telegraph  operator  had 
been  a  despatch  in  cipher.  Though  he  had  not  pre-ar 
ranged  the  cipher  with  his  father,  he  comprehended  it :  — 

"  P.  O.  got  trunk.     West  Indies,  Mexico,  or  Canada  instantly." 

He  read  it  a  second  time.  Cold  sweat  came  upon  his 
brow.  A  few  minutes  later  the  marketmen  coming  into 
the  city,  the  bakers  and  milkmen  going  their  rounds  in  the 
early  gray  of  the  morning,  saw  a  young  man  with  a  valise 
in  his  hand  running  toward  the  railroad  station,  and  said 
to  themselves,  "  There  goes  a  drummer  to  catch  the  early 
train." 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

BERTHA'S  STRANGE  WAYS. 

AUNT  JANET  was  troubled  in  mind  in  regard  to 
Bertha,  who  not  only  had  refused  to  be  flattered 
and  praised  in  society,  but  who  was  manifesting  a  disposi 
tion  to  do  as  she  pleased  in  other  things.  Soon  after 
Caleb's  departure  for  the  woods  of  Maine,  her  desire 
to  do  strange  things  manifested  itself  in  a  new  direction. 
She  became  possessed  of  the  idea  that  there  were  people 
in  the  world  who  were  having  a  hard  time,  and  that  she 
must  hunt  them  up  and  lend  them  a  helping  hand.  Aunt 
Janet  was  so  concerned  for  the  welfare  of  Bertha,  that  she 
resolved  to  consult  with  her  friend,  Mrs.  Coclington,  and 
see  if  some  plan  could  not  be  devised  by  which  the  girl 
could  be  made  sensible  that  she  was  going  in  the  wrong 
direction.  The  two  ladies  were  sitting  in  Mrs.  Coding- 
ton's  luxurious  drawing-room. 

"  She  is  a  strange  girl,"  said  Aunt  Janet.  "  I  wanted 
her  to  go  to  Newport  and  purchase,  or  at  lear.t  hire,  a  villa, 
where  we  could  be  in  the  centre  of  society,  b'.-.t  she  abso 
lutely  refused  to  go  there.  She  seems  to  have  become  in 
fatuated- with  Nahanr,  and  has  purchased  a  cottage  there. 
Now  Nahant  is  pleasant  enough  for  one  who  wants  to  live 
392 


Bertha's  Strange  Ways.  393 

In  a  quiet  way,  but  it  is  not  fashionable.  What  can  have 
put  it  into  Bertha's  head  to  go  there  I  cannot  imagine." 

"  Bertha  might  be  the  belle  of  the  season,  if  she  were  so 
inclined,"  said  Mrs.  Codington. 

"  That  is  so.  She  might  be  a  queen  in  society,  but  in 
stead  of  taking  the  place  for  which  she  is  fitted  by  the 
royalty  that  Nature  has  bestowed,  and  by  her  wealth,  she 
thinks  that  she  must  look  after  a  lot  of  poor  creatures  who 
ought  to  be  able  to  look  after  themselves,"  said  Aunt 
Janet. 

"  That  is  very  strange.  What  do  you  suppose  started 
her  in  that  direction  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Codington. 

"I  have  not  the  remotest  idea;  but  since  that  affair  of 
last  spiing,  when  she  had  such  a  narrow  escape,  she  has 
acted  in  an  unaccountable  manner.  Would  you  believe  it, 
she  started  out  the  other  day  and  rambled  all  over  Negro 
Hill,  went  into  narrow  alleys,  and  up  ricketty  stairs,  and 
down  into  cellar-kitchens,  to  see  some  poor  people  that 
Peter  told  her  about.  Then  she  went  down  to  the  grocer's, 
and  ordered  sacks  of  flour,  bags  of  potatoes,  tea,  coffee 
and  other  things  to  be  sent  to  them.  It  was  very  kind  in 
her,  to  be  sure,  but  then,  that  is  the  City  Missionary's  busi 
ness.  Of  course,  we  all  contribute  to  help  the  poor  when 
the  plate  is  passed  around  on  Sunday,  but  we  do  not  all  of 
us  feel  called  upon  to  go  down  into  the  dirty  alleys,"  said 
Aunt  Janet. 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Codington,  and  added} 
"  but  ,Bertha,  you  know,  is  very  sympathetic  ;  besides,  she 
has  inherited  her  father's  practical  ways.  He  always 
locked  after  every  thing,  and  so  does  Bertha." 

"  She  is  a  Waylancl,  out  and  out,"  said  Aunt  Janet. 
"  What  would  you  do  with  her?"  she  asked,  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause. 


394  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  would  try  to  do  any  thing  with  her. 
She  has  inherited  her  father's  decision  of  character.  She 
is  independent  in  thought  and  action,  and,  if  you  attempt 
to  influence  her  unduly,  she  will  be  all  the  more  independ 
ent.  Perhaps  she  will  get  tired  of  doing  strange  things  by- 
and-by,"  said  the  prudent  Mrs.  Codington. 

Aunt  Janet  accepted  the  advice,  but  resolved  to  always 
have  entertaining  company  at  the  dinner-table,  and  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  to  quietly  bring  around  Bertha  such 
influences  that  she  would  forget  her  strange  ways  and  be 
come  a  star  in  society. 

November  came,  with  its  windy  days  and  chilly  nights. 
Caleb  had  finished  his  work  in  the  woods  of  Maine,  and 
was  once  more  in  Boston,  invigorated  in  body  and  mind. 
There  was  the  glow  of  health  upon  his  cheeks.  He 
walked  erect  with  a  firm  and  steady  step.  He  had  accom 
plished  the  work  assigned  him  to  the  satisfaction  of  Mr. 
Asset,  and  on  a  bright  starlit  evening  called  ac  the  Way- 
land  mansion,  to  pay  his  respects  to  Bertha  and  Aunt 
Janet  Peter  opened  the  door. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Peter  ? "  he  said,  extending  his 
hand. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Krinkle  !  Is  it.  yourself,  sah,  or  is  it  some 
body  else,  sah !  Why,  how  fleshy  you  is,  sah.  Your 
cheeks  are  as  plump  as  pippins,  sah,  and  your  face  as 
roun'  as  de  full  moon,  sah.  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you 
in  de  'joyment  of  such  good  health,  sah.  I  reckon  dat 
Miss  Bertha  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  sah.  Walk  into  de 
parlor,  sah.  I  will  tell  Miss  Bertha  that  you  have  come, 
sah." 

Peter  bowed  low,  as  he  always  did  to  those  for  whom  he 
had  particular  respect,  and  ascended  the  hall  stairs  to 


Bertha's  Strange  Ways.  395 

notify  Miss  Bertha,  who  was  in  her  room,  of  his  arrival. 
Caleb  heard  a  light  tripping  of  feet,  the  rustling  of  a 
dress  upon  the  stairs,  and  Bertha  stood  before  him.  He 
felt  the  warm  grasp  of  her  hand,  and  saw  the  smiles  upon 
her  face.  Never  before  had  he  seen  her  so  radiant  and 
beautiful. 

"  What  an  unexpected  pleasure  is  this  !    You  have  taken 
me  by  surprise.     And  are  you  very  well  ? " 
"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you." 

"  I  need  not  have  asked  ;  I  can  see  that  you  are  by  the 
freshness  of  your  countenance.  But  sit  down,  please,  and 
tell  me  all  about  yourself  —  where  you  have  been,  and 
what  you  have  been  doing." 

It  was  spoken  in  a  breath  — her  hand  resting  in  his  the 
while. 

"  Have  you  been  very  well  all  the  time  ?  "  she  asked, 
again. 

"  Very  well,  I  thank  you.     There  is  nothing  like  life  in 
.the  open  air  to  give  one  vigorous  health." 
"  And  you  have  been  happy,  of  course  ?  " 
Caleb  did  not  at  once   reply,  for  the  sight  of  her  so 
radiant  and  beautiful   set  him  to  thinking  of  Linda.     His 
thoughts  went  back  over  the  years  to  that  evening  when  he 
last  saw  her  —  the  last  time  he  would  ever  behold  her. 

Bertha  noticed  his  hesitation,  and  her  quick  eye  saw 
the  shade  of  sadness  settling  on  his  face. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  did  not  think,  when 
I  spoke,  of  the  great  sorrow  that  has  come  to  you.  I  have 
heard  about  it  from  Mary  Fielding.  How  sad  to  think 
that  Linda  is  gone !  I  knew  that  she  was  your  betrothed, 
and  was  glad  of,  it  for  she  was  one  of  the  noblest  girls 
that  ever  lived.  I  felt  like  putting  my  arms  around  her 
the  first  time  I  saw  her.  You  remember  that  it  was  in 


396  Caleb  Krinkk. 

your  own  maple  grove.  She  had  such  sweetness,  com 
posure,  and  native  dignity,  thai  I  wanted  to  clasp  her 
to  my  heart.  Then,  at  that  Thanksgiving  party,  she  en 
deared  herself  to  me  by  her  kindness  and  goodness.  Tell 
me  about  her,  please,  that  I  may  emulate  her  virtues." 

"  I  never  realized  till  Linda  was  gone,"  said  Caleb, 
•'how  much  there  is  in  the  divine  apothegm,  that  the 
works  of  the  righteous  follow  them.  No  one  knew  till 
she  was  no  more,  how  much  good  she  had  clone.  She 
will  long  be  remembered  for  her  kindness  and  goodness. 
Old  men  who  walked  with  tottering  steps,  and  old  women 
who  had  lost  their  eyesight,  thought  of  her  as  an  angel. 
She  read  the  Bible  to  them,  talked  to  them  cf  their  child 
hood  days,  and  of  the  glories  of  the  eternal  life  —  lead 
them,  as  it  were,  to  the  fountains  of  perpetual  youth,  and 
made  them  young  again,"  said  Caleb. 

"  And  I  have  done  nothing."  It  was  a  sigh,  a  lament, 
that  fell  from  Bertha's  lips,  spoken  a?  if  in  reverie. 

"We  are  not  always  competent  to  judge  of  what  we 
have  done,"  Caleb  replied. 

"You  said  that  the  works  of  the  righteous  follow  them ; 
does  not  the  apothegm  apply  to  the  wicked  as  well  ? " 
Bertha  asked. 

"Undoubtedly.  We  all  of  us  live  after  we  are  dead. 
If  the  evil  that  we  do  could  only  die  with  us,  how  much 
better  it  would  be,  not  only  for  ourselves,  but  for  the 
world  !  We  may  catch  a  thief  and  shut  him  up  so  long  as 
he  is  in  the  flesh,  but  the  moment  he  steps  out  of  it  we 
have  no  redress.  We  wicked  creatures  who  live  af'.er  we 
are  in  our  graves  are  the  ones  the  constables  cannot 
catch.  Sin  and  selfishness  are  so  pleasurable,  that  we 
never  stop  to  think  cf  what  may  come  from  our  wrong 
doing,  after  we  have  dropped  out  of  existence.  It  is  this 


Berthds  Strange  Ways.  30,7 

going  on  forever  of  the  evil  that  we  do,  that  makes  life 
such  a  responsibility.  We  dare  and  do,  and  the  whole 
universe  suffers.  Linda  understood,  as  all  true  souls  un 
derstand,  perhaps  not  by  reason,  but  by  a  divine  insight, 
that  we  live  not  to  ourselves  alone." 

Their  interview  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Major- 
General  Pompon, —  a  gentleman  a  little  past  the  prime  of 
life,  —  a  bachelor,  holding  a  Major-General's  commission 
in  the  army.  When  he  was  in  full  military  dress,  he  wore 
two  stars  on  each  shoulder.  He  entered  the  parlor  with 
dignity,  bowed  in  a  dignified  way  to  Bertha,  and  put  on  a 
frigid  dignity  when  introduced  to  Mr.  Krinkle.  It  was 
barely  an  inclination  of  the  head,  and  a  look  which  said, 
"  Who  are  you,  and  what  are  you  poaching  on  my  domains 
for  ? " 

As  General  Pompon  took  his  seat,  Caleb  arose  to  go. 

"  Please  do  not  go,  Mr.  Krinkle.  I  want  to  talk  with 
you,"  said  Bertha,  motioning  him  to  a  seat. 

General  Pompon  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  stared  at 
,Mr.  Krinkle,  as  if  saying  to  himself,  "  I  must  have  my 
eyes  about  me.  I  must  look  out  for  this  fellow."  He  ran 
his  eyes  over  Caleb  from  head  to  foot  with  military  pre 
cision,  as  if  examining  an  enemy  in  position  against  whom 
he  must  direct  his  batteries,  and  knitting  his  shaggy  brows. 

"  A  pleasant  evening,"  Caleb  remarked. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  hale  and  hearty,"  said  the 
General  to  Bertha,  taking  no  notice  of  what  Caleb  had 
said. 

"Thank  you,  I  am  quite  well,  was  the  response,  and 
then,  turning  toward  Caleb,  Bertha  said,  "  How  very  de 
lightful  it  must  have  been  for  you  to  ramble  in  the  grand 
old  forest." 

"1  enjoyed  the  solitude  very  much.  Bryant's  'Forest 
Hymn  '  was  ever  in  my  mind :  — 


398  Caleb  Krinkle. 

'  The  groves  were  God's  first  temple,  ere  man  learned 
To  hew  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave, 

And  spread  the  roof  above  them  —  ere  he  framed 
The  lofty  vault,  to  gather  and  roll  back 

The  sound  of  anthems.'  " 

General  Pompon  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  and  turned  him 
self  to  take  a  good  look  at  this  masked  battery,  and  after 
surveying  it,  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  he  would  pres 
ently  send  some  hot  shot  in  that  direction. 

"  Miss  Wayland,  if  it  is  enjoyment  you're  after,  come  with 
me  to  the  battle-field.  There  is  nothing  like  a  good  fight 
to  stir  one's  blood,"  and  he  went  on  to  nan  ate  his  exploits, 
rehearsing  them  as  Othello  rehearsed  his  adventures  before 
Desdemona,  — 

"  Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  fields, 
Of  hair-breadth  'scapes." 

Caleb  heard  him  say, — 

"  The  bullets  rained  about  me.  They  fell  like  hail  upon 
the  grass,  as  I  rode  over  the  field.  I  charged  over  the 
breastworks,  turned  their  left  flank,  captured  nearly  half 
of  them,  and  put  the  others  to  rout.'' 

"Was  the  rest  of  the  army  engaged?"  Bertha  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  a  portion  of  it,  but  I  assure  you  I  was 
in  the  hottest  of  the  fight,"  the  general  replied,  not  seeing 
the  keen  sarcasm  which  Bertha  had  thrown  into  the  question. 

"I  dare  say,"  Bertha  replied  coldly.  Caleb  thought  that 
she  was  amused,  and  yet  a  little  impatient  of  the  egotism  and 
vanity  of  her  visitor. 

The  bell  rang,  and  soon  after,  while  General  Pompon  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  cavalry  charge,  Peter  announced  another 
visitor,  Reverend  Mr.  Cassock.  The  Reverend  gentleman, 


Bertha's  Strange  Ways.  399 

was  a  young  man,  dressed  in  a  clerical  suit  of  black,  with  a 
pale  face  smoothly  shaven,  wearing  golden-bowed  spectacles, 
and  with  his  dark-brown  hair  parted  in  the  middle.  He  came 
in  bowing  and  teetering. 

"  I  hope  that  I  see  you  very  well,"  he  said,  bowing  to  Ber 
tha.  He  made  a  half  bow  to  General  Pompon  and  another 
to  Caleb. 

"  General  Pompon  and  my  friend  Mr.  Krinkle,"  said  Ber 
tha,  introducing  the  General  and  Caleb. 

The  General  gave  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head,  pulled 
his  whiskers,  and  put  on  a  glum  look.  He  did  not  like  to  be 
interrupted  at  the  most  thrilling  point  of  his  story,  nor  did  he 
relish  the  presence  of  the  new  comer.  More,  he  noticed  that 
Miss  Wayland  in  introducing  Caleb  had  called  him  her  friend. 
Reverend  Mr.  Cassock  also  noticed  it,  and  said  to  himself, 
"Who  is  he?"  He  took  a  shy  look,  a  side  glance  through 
his  spectacles  at  the  quiet,  self-possessed  young  man  sitting 
by  the  centre-table. 

"  The  evening  was  so  delightful,  and  the  stars  so  bright  that, 
really,  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  stealing  down  this 
way  and  of  dropping  in  upon  you  a  moment,  Miss  Wayland. 
I  missed  you  from  church  last  Sunday  morning,"  said  Mr. 
Cassock. 

"  No  ;  I  was  not  there,"  Bertha  replied. 

"  I  feared  you  might  be  sick.  Really  I  was  quite  con 
cerned." 

"  I  have  been  very  well,  I  thank  you." 

"  I  was  quite  disappointed  when  I  found  you  were  absent, 
for  I  wanted  to  know  what  you  thought  of  my  sermon." 

"  I  dare  say  I  should  have  liked  it',"  Bertha  replied. 

What  a  peacock  !  was  the  thought  that  flashed  through  the 
brain  of  General  Pompon  who  was  chewing  his  heavy  mous 
tache  —  champing  it  as  a  horse  his  bits,  and  out  of  all  pa 
tience  with  the  Reverend  gentleman. 


.400  Caleb  Krinkle, 


"Miss  Waylancl,  will  you  not  favor  me  with  a  little  music? 
Allow  me  to  escort  you  to  the  piano,"  said  the  General,  ris 
ing,  bowing  and  extending  his  arm,  ignoring  Reverend  Mr. 
Cassock  and  Mr.  Krinkle. 

"  I  will  play  with  pleasure,  if  it  would  be  agreeable  to  the 
company,"  Bertha  said. 

"  Charming,  delightful  !  "  said  Mr.  Cassock. 

"  I  shall  enjoy  it  very  much,"  was  Caleb's  reply. 

General  Pompon  stood  at  her  right  hand,  and  Reverend 
Mr.  Cassock  immediately  took  a  position  at  her  left,  that  he 
might  turn  the  leaves  of  the  music,  while  Caleb  sat  quietly  by 
the  centre-table.  She  played  a  sonata. 

"  Miss  Wayland,  your  playing  is  so  grand  and  magnificent 
that  it  reminds  me  of  the  marching  of  an  army,  with  all  the 
bands  playing  and  the  banners  waving  above  them.  I  could 
charge  a  whole  brigade  alone  under  the  inspiration  of  your 
playing,"  said  the  General. 

Mr.  Cassock  clapped  his  soft  hands  and  said,  "  You  quite 
enchant  me,  Miss  Wayland,  and  will  you  now  favor  us  with 
a  song?  " 

Bertha  sang  as  requested. 

"  My  clear  Miss  Wayland,  the  nightingales  will  envy  you," 
said  Mr.  Cassock,  bowing  and  teetering  and  patting  his  hands. 
She  had  selected  a  simple  ballad,  but  it  was  sung  with  such  pa 
thos  that  a  tear  rolled  down  Caleb's  cheek  before  he  was  aware 
of  it.  Bertha  saw  it.  It  was  not  the  demonstrative  applause  of 
General  Pompon  nor  the  sentimental  utterances  of  Reverend 
Mr.  Cassock,  but  this  silent  appreciation  on  the  part  of  Caleb, 
that  won  her' respect  and  gratitude. 

The  evening  was  waning,  and  General  Pompon  and  Rev 
erend  Mr.  Cassock  took  their  departure,  disquieted  in  mind, 
because  Mr,  Krinkle  was  there  and  because  he  showed  no 


Bertha's  Strange  Ways.  401 

signs  of  leaving,  and  because  Miss  Wayland  had  called  him 
her  friend. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  where  you  have  been  and  what 
you  have  seen,"  said  Bertha,  when  General  Pompon  and  Rev 
erend  Mr.  Cassock  had  taken  their  departure. 

She  sat  with  her  arm  resting  upon  the  centre-table  with  the 
light  from  the  chandelier  falling  upon  her  face,  and  listened 
with  eagerness  to  his  account  of  what  he  had  done  in  looking 
after  her  interests. 

"  I  found  health  in  the  woods,  and  judge  that  you  also 
found  it  at  the  seashore. 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  happiness  such  as  I  never  enjoyed  be 
fore,  and  do  you  know  that  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  it? 
If  it  had  not  been  for  the  crossing  of  our  paths,  and  our 
visit  to  the  seaside  on  that  day  early  in  the  season,  I  undoubt 
edly  should  have  been  trying  to  kill  time  at  Saratoga  or  New 
port,  but  I  have  not  forgotten,  nor  shall  I  ever  forget,  what  the 
sea  slid  to  me  on  that  day,"  Bertha  replied. 

"  What  was  it,  please?  " 

"That  my  life  was  running  to  waste.  That  I  was  of  no 
account,  and  that  the  world  was  no  better  for  my  living  in  it. 
I  never  shall  forget  the  thoughts  that  came  to  me  as  I  heard 
the  pebbles  chafing  the  beach, — the  hollow  sound  as  the 
waves  ran  back  again  into  the  sea,  that  so  my  life  was  run 
ning  out,  and  nothing  would  ever  come  of  it.  Nor  shall  I 
ever  forget  the  words  that  fell  from  your  lips  as  we  sat  upon 
the  rocks  looking  at  the  ships  as  they  went  sailing  by.  O 
Mr.  Krinkle,  they  were  an  evangel  to  me  !  They  awakened 
me  from  my  dreaming.  Since  then  I  feel  that  I  have  begun 
to  live.  Till  that  day  I  had  searched  in  vain  for  happiness, 
but  I  have  been  very  happy  since,  and  I  am  indebted  to  you 
for  pretty  much  all  the  real,  soul-satisfying  pleasure  I  have 
had  in  life  thus  far. 
26 


402  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  You  surprise  me,  Miss  Wayland.  May  I  ask  in  what  way 
I  have  been  of  benefit  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  revealed  to  me  what  I  never  knew  before,  that  the 
highest  happiness  in  this  life  comes  from  helping  those  who 
cannot  help  themselves ;  that  it  is  the  Divine  ideal ;  and  so 
much  have  I  enjoyed  in  the  little  that  I  have  attempted  to 
do  for  others,  it  seems  to  me  the  pleasure  must  be  akin 
to  that  experienced  by  the  angels." 

Caleb  saw  the  light  in  her  earnest  eyes  and  knew  that  the 
friendship  between  them  was  closer  than  ever.  The  evening 
was  far  advanced,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  time  for  him  to 
take  his  departure.  Bertha  accompanied  him  to  the  door, 
shook  hands  with  him  upon  the  threshold,  and  bowed  to 
him  as  he  passed  into  the  street;  then  she  went  back  into 
the  parlor,  sat  down  in  the  luxurious  arm-chair,  and  fell  into 
reverie.  She  thought  of  the  tear  that  had  glistened  for  a 
moment  on  his  cheek  while  she  was  playing.  She  could 
play  by  the  hour  for  one  who  had  so  delicate  a  sense  of  the 
beautiful  in  music,  and  not  be  weary.  She  liked  to  play  to 
him  because  he  enjoyed  it  so  much,  and  because  it  was  a 
gratification  to  herself  to  give  pleasure  to  one  so  worthy,  so 
noble  and  good  as  she  conceived  Mr.  Krinkle  to  be.  And 
now  she  remembered  that  the  house  was  lonely  after  his 
departure  for  the  Maine  wood.?.  And  it  was  all  the  more 
empty  when  General  Pompon  and  Reverend  Mr.  Cassock  were 
present.  How  different  the  warm  grasp  of  Mr.  Krinkle's 
hand  from  the  touch  of  Mr.  Cassock's  flabby  fingers  !  The 
by-gone  years  came  back  to  her,  —  that  first  meeting  in  the 
maple-grove, —  that  party  where  she  did  not  intend  to  be 
caught  in  the  game  of  Copenhagen,  —  and  that  kiss  !  After 
all  the  years  she  could  feel  it  on  her  cheek  !  And  he  had 
saved  her  life.  She  could  pray  that  the  best  of  heaven's 
blessings  might  rest  upon  him.  And  then  came  the 


Bertha's  Strange  Ways.  403 

thoughts  :  "  How  soon  shall  I  see  him  again  ?  Will  he  call 
to-morrow  evening?"  No,  that  was  not  probable.  But  she 
would  know  his  footsteps  when  he  came ;  there  were  no 
steps  in  the  world  like  those  she  had  just  heard  upon  the 
flag-stones  as  he  took  his  departure. 
Such  was  the  reverie. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

ONLY   A    ROSE. 

EV.  MR.  CASSOCK,  having  meditated  upon  the 
matter,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  could 
be  more  efficient  in  the  ministry  if  he  had  somebody  to 
criticise  his  sermons.  And  he  thought  that  a  lady  would 
be  better  than  a  gentleman.  Besides,  a  lady,  if  she  were 
Mrs.  Cassock,  could  look  after  the  buttons  on  his  shirts 
and  the  holes  in  his  stockings.  He  finally  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Miss  Wayland  would  be  an  efficient  aid. 
H'i  was  conscious  of  a  higher  inspiration  and  of  more  ex 
alted  ideas  whenever  she  was  a  listener  to  his  sermons. 
Nor  is  it  strange  that  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  an  in 
come  of  fifty  thousand  a  year  would  be  altogether  more 
comfortable  than  the  salary  doled  out  by  his  congregation. 
There  was  no  knowing  how  much  good  he  could  do  if  he 
had  such  an  amount  of  money. 

Mr.  Cassock  was  a  frequent  visitor  nt  the  Wayland  man 
sion,  and  as  he  sat  in  the  well-furnished  parlor,  or  turned 
the  leaves  of  the  volumes  in  the  library,  he  thought  ihat 
the  Wayland  mansion  would  make  a  delightful  parsonage. 
He  had  dropped  in  so  many  limes  that  he  was  a'ready 
quite  at  home  there,  and  he  was  always  so  heartily  wel 
comed  by  Aunt  Janet,  and  treated  so  respectfully  by  Miss 
404 


Only  a  Rose.  405 

Wayland,  and  invited  to  stay  and  take  dinner,  that  he  be 
gan  to  feel  as  if  he  were  a  member  of  the  family.  It  was 
delightful  to  sit  at  such  a  table,  where  he  was  sure  of  find 
ing  entertaining  company. 

Aunt  Janet  admired  Rev.  Mr.  Cassock.  There  might 
be  other  ministers  as  eloquent  as  he,  but  take  him  all  in  all 
as  preacher,  and  especially  as  pastor,  there  was  no  one  that 
excelled  him  in  her  estimation.  And  now  that  she  had 
given  up  all  expectation  of  bringing  about  an  alliance_of 
the  Porgie  family  with  or.e  of  the  noble  families  of  old 
England,  she  was  turning  over  the  question,  whether,  upon 
the  whole,  Deri  ha  could  do  better  than  to  accept  Rev.  Mr. 
Cassock.  At  any  rate,  Au'it  J  met  was  quite  willing  that 
Mr.  Cassock  should  be  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Wayland 
mansion. 

Mr.  Cas-ock's  seat  at  the  dinner-table  usually  was  that 
which  Caleb  had  occupied,  and  though  he  was  brilliant 
and  witty,  and  was  ever  bowing  and  smiling,  when  Deri  ha 
contrasted  his  bits  cf  sentiment  with  the  earnest  words 
spoken  by  Mr.  Ki  inkle,  she  thought  that  Mr.  Cassock  did 
not  q'Mte  till  the  chair.  If  he  was  eloquent  in  the  pulpit 
she  could  not  resist  the  conviction  thai  in  the  parlor  he 
was  sometimes  silly. 

Mr.  Cassock  had  called  so  many  times,  had  been  received 
so  courteously  and  entertained  so  hospitably,  that  he  con 
cluded  the  '..me  had  ccme  to  make  known  to  Derlha  his 
sentiments  in  regard  to  her.  lie  was  fully  persuaded  in 
his  own  mind  that  she  was  not  only  necessary  to  his  hap- 
p'ness  and  peace  of  mind,  but  that  she  could  make  his 
nvnistry  more  efficient.  lie  had  come  to  the  conclusion, 
a"'er  much  meditation,  that  the  Lord  had  a  great  work  for 
her  to  do,  in  cor. junction  with  him,  and  was  utterly  con 
founded  when  Derlha  informed  him  that  nothing  of  the 


406  Caleb  Krinkle. 

kind  had  been  revealed  to  her.  So  dejected  was  Rev.  Mr- 
Cassock  in  spirits  at  her  reply  that  nothing  short  of  a  trip 
to  Europe  could  make  him  himself  again. 

No  better  success  attended  General  Pompon.  He  could 
charge  an  enemy's  battery,  but  could  not  find  his  way  to 
the  heart  of  Bertha  Waylancl,  who,  from  day  to  day,  was 
finding  happiness  in  the  narrow  lanes,  alleys  and  courts  of 
the  North  End,  such  as  she  never  had  found  at  Saratoga, 
Newport  and  Washington. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  months  rolled  on,  Caleb  was  attaining 
that  for  which  he  had  struggled  —  admittance  to  the  bar. 
If  he  felt  an  exhilaration  of  spirits,  if  he  walked  the  streets 
with  a  firmer  step,  conscious  of  the  dignity  conferred  upon 
him,  he  was  at  the  same  time  not  insensible  to  the  fact, 
that  the  uphill  of  life  was  before  him.  He  had  attended 
lectures  at  the  law  school,  had  bent  over  the  dry-as-dust 
volumes  till  long  past  the  midnight  hour,  unravelling  knot 
ty  questions.  Success  was  a  duty  —  duty  alone  —  not 
pleasure.  He  was  no  longer  animated  by  a  great  hope. 
There  was  no  bright  star  leading  him  on.  The  star  that 
had  led  him  in  the  past,  had  gone  down  never  to  rise  again. 
Nevertheless,  life  was  before  him,  and  he  must  do  what  he 
could  for  himself  and  his  fellowmen.  Sometimes,  when  he 
was  clown-hearted,  and  the  future  a  cheerless  blank,  he 
found  comfort  and  a  stimulus  to  his  resolution  by  going 
down  to  the  North  End,  and  climbing  a  creaking  stairway 
to  an  attic  chamber  to  see  an  eld  man  who  had  lost  both 
legs,  who  had  followed  wife  and  children  one  by  one  to  the 
grave,  and  was  alone  in  the  world,  yet  managed  to  keep 
soul  and  body  together  by  mending  old  boots.  Although 
the  chamber  was  small  and  mean,  although  the  old  man 
could  gain  little,  if  any  thing,  ahead  cf  his  daily  wants, 
Caleb  thought  it  one  of  the  pleasantest  rooms  in  the 


Only  a  Rose.  407 

world.  The  cobbler  never  grumbled  at  his  lot  in  life,  and 
was  so  cheery  and  ready  to  help  the  other  poor  creatures 
in  the  court,  who  were  having  a  harder  time  than  himself, 
that  Caleb  felt  ashamed  of  having  the  blues.  It  did  him 
good  lo  leave  something  with  the  cobbler  to  make  him 
more  comfortable.  He  was  slow  in  learning  it,  but  gradu 
ally  he  came  to  understand  that  in  helping  others  he  was 
at  the  same  time  helping  himself.  He  reproached  himself 
for  being  down-hearted.  Why  should  he  be,  —  especially 
with  so  many  kind  friends  around  him?  Did  not  Mr.  As 
set  find  wo  k  for  him?  Was  he  not  getting  on  in  his  pro 
fession  ?  Had  he  not  made  a  successful  plea  at  the  bar? 
More  than  this,  was  not  Bertha,  though  so  far  above  him 
in  social  position,  a  true  friend  ?  Was  he  not  occasionally 
receiving  invitations  to  dine  at  the  Wayland  mansion  ? 
Was  not  her  treatment  of  him  exceedingly  kind  and  cour 
teous —  almost  sisterly?  How  cordial  her  greeting  !  how 
bright  her  smile  whenever  he  met  her  !  And  she  had  loved 
Linda. 

In  an  hour  of  reverie  there  came  the  thought  —  Would 
Bertha  take  the  place  of  Linda?  The  question  was  de 
cided  on  the  instant  —  it  was  not  possible.  She  was  noble 
and  good,  and  worthy  of  his  love  ;  she  was  beautiful,  but 
she  was  so  far  removed  from  him  by  her  position  in  life 
that  the  thought  could  not  for  a  mem  en  t  be  entertained. 
She  was  his  sincere  friend,  and  he  would  not  jeopardize 
their  friendship  by  thinking  that  she  could  ever  hold  a 
more  endearing  relation.  Besides,  there  was  a  face  that 
haunted  him.  The  years  might  come  and  go,  but  that 
parting  with  Linda  never  would  be  forgotten  ;  and  if  he 
should  ever  love  another  it  would  not  be  the  old  love — that 
was  r.biding,  changeless  and  sacred. 

He  banished  the  thought  that  had  (lashed  upon  him,  and 
went  on  with  his  work. 


408  Caleb  Krinkle. 

There  came  a  day  when  Mr.  Asset  called  upon  Caleb. 

"  Hard  at  work,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Asset,  as  he  entered  the 
office. 

"  I  am  trying  to  do  something,"  Caleb  replied,  shaking 
hands  with  him  and  handing  him  a  chair. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  have  made  a  successful  start, 
and  that  you  are  getting  on  so  well." 

Caleb  bowed  his  acknowledgment. 

"I  have  called  round  to  see  if  I  can  secure  your  services, 
Mr.  Krinkle.  I  have  got  to  send  somebody  out  West  to 
look  after  Miss  Wayland's  affairs.  Mr.  Wayland,  just  before 
his  death,  invested  largely  in  government  lands  in  Michigan, 
Wisconsin  and  Minnesota,  and  they  need  looking  after.  I 
have  been  counseling  with  Miss  Bertha  about  it,  and  she  agrees 
with  me  that  some  one  ought  to  go  out,  and  especially  as 
so  many  of  the  western  lumbermen  are  in  the  habit  of 
cutting  timber  wherever  they  find  it.  She  is  not  quite  willing 
that  I  should  ask  you  to  leave  your  profession,  now  that  you 
have  started  so  successfully  and  have  such  a  fair  prospect  be 
fore  you,  and  says  you  cannot  afford  to  make  the  sacrifice. 
I  have  ventured,  however,  to  come  and  lay  the  matter  before 
you.  I  should  prefer  to  have  you  go  rather  than  any  one 
else,  for  you  are  already  somewhat  acquainted  with  her  af 
fairs,  and  I  know  that  what  you  undertake  will  be  accom 
plished.  I  have  not  come  to  urge  you  to  go,  but  if  you  can 
see  your  way  clear,  I  will  make  the  compensation  satisfac 
tory,"  said  Mr.  Asset. 

"  I  will  go.  I  will  do  any  thing  in  my  power  to  serve  Miss 
Wayland  who  has  done  so  much  for  me,"  Caleb  replied,  with 
out  a  moment's  hesitation.  "  I  can  turn  over  my  business 
to  a  friend,"  he  added,  "and  will  trust  to  the  Providence 
which  has  led  me  thus  far,  to  recover  it  when  I  return." 

"  Thank  you.     If  you  will  drop  in  to-morrow  1  will  unfold 


Only  a  Rose.  409 

the  business  to  you.  It  will  be  an  all-summer  trip,  and  you 
must  prepare  to  encounter  some  hardships.  You  will  be  be 
yond  civilization  most  of  the  time,"  said  Mr.  Asset. 

"  That  does  not  deter  me  ;  I  shall  like  it  all  the  better. 
There  is  health  in  the  woods  and  on  the  prairies,"  Caleb  re 
plied,  as  Mr.  Asset  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room. 

A  few  days  later,  Caleb's  preparations  were  completed,  his 
trunk  packed,  his  instructions  received.  On  a  pleasant  even 
ing  in  May,  he  proceeded  toward  the  Wayland  mansion  to 
bid  Bertha  and  Aunt  Janet  good-by.  As  he  turned  around 
Park  Street  Church  he  saw  a  little  girl  leaning  against  one  of 
the  stone  posts  with  flowers  for  sale.  She  smiled  as  she 
recognized  him. 

"  Ah  !  Dora,  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you." 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  ?  " 

"  I  have  sold  all  but  this." 

"  Then  I  will  buy  you  out,"  Caleb  replied,  purchasing  the 
last  rose  she  had  for  sale. 

"  TJiank  you.     I  will  pin  it  to  your  coat,"  said  the  child. 

The  girl  was  one  of  his  proteges.  He  had  found  her  in  a 
miserable  garret  at  the  North  End,  had  been  won  by  her  sweet 
face,  and  had  set  her  up  in  business  by  purchasing  a  few  flow 
ers  for  her  to  re-sell.  The  original  capital  invested  was  only 
fifty  cents,  but  out  of  it  had  come  a  deposit  in  the  savings- 
bank,  to  say  nothing  of  new  shoes,  new  clothes,  a  clean  face, 
a  thankful  heart,  comfort,  self-respect,  longing,  aspiration,  and 
hope.  It  \vas  not  the  rose  which  the  child  pinned  to  his 
coat  that  gave  Caleb  pleasure,  but  the  thought  that  he  had 
helped  her.  And  it  was  not  the  money  which  Caleb  slipped 
into  Dora's  hand  that  made  her  happy,  but  the  thought  tha* 
she  had  such  a  friend  in  the  world. 


4ro  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  Goocl-b}r,  Dora  !  I  am  going  away  in  the  morning,  to 
be  gone  through  the  summer." 

"All  summer  !  "     A  shadow  fell  upon  the  child's  face. 

"Yes;  but  I  shall  think  of  you  while  I  am  gone  as  stand 
ing  here  and  selling  roses.  I  shall  think  of  you  as  doing 
good  to  your  mother  and  everybody  else.  When  I  come 
back  I  will  come  and  see  you."  He  stooped  and  kissed  the 
child,  and  saw  a  tear  in  her  eye,  and  knew  that  it  was  her  bene 
diction. 

He  passed  on,  reached  the  Way  land  mansion,  and  rang  the 
bell.  Peter  opened  the  door. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Krinkle  !  It  is  like  having  the  sun 
rise  at  midnight  to  see  you,  sah.  I  should  ascertain  that 
you  is  hearty  and  well,  sah." 

"  Thank  you,  Peter,  but  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you  ;  if 
it  had  not  been  for  your  good  care  of  me  I  should  not  now 
be  in  the  enjoyment  of  such  excellent  health." 

"Thank  you,  sah.  I  hope  I  don't  irrigate  to  myself  no 
more  than  what  is  proper,  sah,  De  good  Lord  was  pleased 
to  bless  my  nussin  of  ye,  sah." 

Bertha  was  in  the  parlor.  She  had  heard  Caleb's  footsteps 
on  the  pavement.  There  were  no  others  in  the  world  like 
his.  All  Boston  might  go  tramping  by  her  window  and  there 
would  be  no  step  like  those  that  were  crossing  her  threshold 
at  the  moment.  She  welcomed  him  with  a  smile  and  a  warm 
grasp  of  the  hand. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  could  find  time  to  come  and  spend 
your  last  evening  with  me  ;  there  are  many  things  that  I  want 
to  talk  about,"  she  said,  and,  sitting  down  by  his  side,  unfolded 
her  plans,  or  rather  the  thoughts,  that  had  come  to  her  in  regard 
to  the  best  way  of  doing  good.  It  having  been  noised  abroad 
that  Miss  Wayland  was  charitably  disposed,  beggars  of 
every  description  were  swarming  around  her,  not  only  the 


Only  a  Rose.  411 

poor  creatures  who  were  thankful  for  crusts  from  her  table, 
but  oily  men  and  voluble  women,  who  had  all  sorts  of  schemes 
in  view,  by  which  a  portion  of  her  charity,  a  percentage,  or 
the  whole,  might  drop  into  their  hands  and  stay  there.  How 
to  protect  herself  from  those  who  solicited  aid  from  selfish 
motives,  and  how  best  to  render  aid  where  it  was  needed, 
occupied  their  attention  till  late  in  the  evening. 

Aunt  Janet  had  urged  Bertha  to  spend  another  season  at 
Saratoga  and  Newport,  but  Bertha  had  set  her  face  against 
the  proposition.  She  would  not  go  where  her  time  would  be- 
wholly  absorbed  in  dressing,  dancing,  compliment,  and  the 
exactions  of  society.  In  the  cottage  that  had  been  purchased 
at  Nahant  she  would  receive  her  friends,  and  be  mistress  of 
herself  and  not  the  slave  of  fashion. 

The  clock  on  Park  Street  Church  had  struck  the  hour  of 
ten,  and  it  was  time  for  Caleb  to  bid  her  good-night. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  he  said,  "  but  will  you  not  sing  me  one 
song  before  I  say  good-by  ?  It  will  be  many  months  before 
I. shall  hear  your  voice  again." 

"  With  pleasure.     What  shall  I  sing?  " 

"  Some  simple  melody  that  comes  from  the  heart  and  goes 
to  the  heart." 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  sat  in  silence  a  moment, 
as  if  trying  to  recall  a  song,  ran  her  fingers  over  the  keys,  and 
began  to  sing  :  — 

"  Oft  as  I  walk  the  crowded  street 
Throughout  the  livelong  day, 
Amid  the  ceaseless  tramp  of  feet, 
I  ever  hear  your  true  heart  beat, 
Although  so  far  away. 

"As  roving  ships  return  from  sea 

And  anchor  by  the  shore, 
So  will  1  hasten  soon  to  thee, 


Caleb  Krinkle. 

And  blissful  then,  my  love,  shall  be 
Our  lives  forevennore." 


Caleb  listened  in  amazement. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  may  I  ask  where  you  obtained  those 
words,"  he  said,  as  she  finished  the  next  stanza? 

"  They  were  written  by  a  friend  of  mine.  Can  you  guess 
who?  "  Bertha  replied,  smiling,  and  enjoying  his  perplexity  ; 
then  added,  "  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  ever  since  my 
school-days  at  Hi!lto\vn,  I  have  kept  up  my  correspondence 
with  Mary  Fielding.  Our  friendship  has  never  ceased. 
Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  there  is  a  sort  of  Freemasonry 
among  us  girls.  Our  society  has  no  password  or  sign,  except 
such  as  always  exist  between  congenial  spirits.  Linda,  Mary 
and  myself,  were  members  of  a  sociery  which  consisted  of 
us  three  only.  So  you  will  not  think  it  strange  that  the 
tender  lines  written  by  yourself  to  Linda  should  have  found 
their  way  round  to  me.  It  was  not  a  betrayal  of  secrets  on 
the  part  of  Linda,  or  Mary,  but  rather  a  participation  on  our 
part  in  her  happiness.  I  knew,  long  before  the  accident 
which  brought  about  a  renewal  of  my  acquaintance  with  you, 
of  the  ,ove  that  had  sprung  up  between  yourself  and  Linda, 
and  rejoiced  that  the  dear  girl  had  found  one  who  would  be 
true  to  her  forever." 

What  could  he  say  in  reply  to  such  an  artless  expression 
of  her  faith  in  him?  Nothing  but  this  :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  setting  the  simple  words  to  such  a  beau 
tiful  melody." 

lie  rose  to  go. 

"Must  you  go?  There  are  many  things  that  I  want  to 
say.  I  cannot  recall  them  now,  but  shall  think  oi  them  after 
you  are  gone.  Will  you  be  gone  long,  do  you  think?  " 

"  Mr.  Asset  thinks  that  I  shall  find  enough  business  to 


Only  a  Rose.  413 

keep  me  employed  till  September,  and  perhaps  even 
longer." 

"So  long!  You  will  write  to  me,  will  you  not?  I  shall 
want  to  know  how  you  are." 

"  Certainly,  and  with  pleasure." 

"  If  you  are  to  be  gone  so  long,  may  I  not  ask  you  to 
leave  me  your  photograph?  I  shall  forget  how  you  look." 

"  It  would  give  me  pleasure  to  grant  your  request,  but  I 
haven't  one." 

"  I  am  sorry.  Just  think,  I  have  not  a  single  keepsake 
to  remind  me  of  you  !  " 

Her  eyes  fell  upon  the  rose  in  the  button-hole  of  his  coat. 

"  With  your  permission  I  will  take  this,"  she  said. 

He  placed  it  in  her  hand.     Their  eyes  met. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  pinning  it  to  her  dress,  with  a 
flush  overspreading  her  face. 

Shall  we  wonder  that  her  voice  was  tremulous? 

There  are  times  when  sudden  revelations  come  to  us.  As 
a  traveller,  gaining  a  mountain's  height,  unexpectedly  be 
holds  a  fair  and  restful  valley  reposing  at  his  feet,  so  was  the 
vision  that  came  to  Caleb  at  the  moment.  From  month  to 
month  Bertha's  friendship  had  been  growing  more  trustful 
and  confiding  ;  but  now  he  saw  and  understood  why  it  was 
that  with  her  trust  and  confidence  there  had  been  an  increas 
ing  timidity  and  shyness,  and  a  brighter  flush  upon  her 
cheeks  whenever  there  was  a  chance  meeting  of  their  eyes. 
Their  friendship  was  deep  and  abiding,  but  now  had  come 
the  revelation  that  in  the  future  the  tie  between  them  might 
be  even  more  tender  than  that  of  friendship. 

"Good-by!"  How  couid  he  drop  the  hand  that  rested 
so  willingly  in  his?  How  turn  away  from  one  before  whose 
transcendent  beauty  he  could  bow  down  as  worshippers 
bend  before  the  Sistine  Madonna,  and  not  recognize  by 


414  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

some  little  act,  her  regard  for  him?  Yet  he  was  not  pre 
pared  to  say,  "  Will  you  be  to  me  what  Linda  was?  " 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  I  never  shall  forget  one  who  has 
been  a  true  friend  to  me,"  he  said,  and  lightly  pressed  her 
hand. 

She  did  not  withdraw  it,  but  still  allowing  it  to  rest  there, 
walked  with  him  to  the  door.  He  saw  a  glad  light  in  her 
eyes  and  a  growing  brightness  on  her  face. 

"  Good-by  !     God  bless  and  keep  you,"  she  said. 

And  so,  with  Bertha's  benediction  resting  upon  him,  he 
left  the  mansion. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

THE    KINDNESS   OF   THE   RIVER   TO   MR.    PICKET. 

AN  was  travelling  through  the  towns  along  the  river, 
below  Millbrook.  It  was  a  region  that  he  did  not 
often  visit,  for  the  roads  were  sandy,  which  made  it  hard 
for  his  horse  —  not  the  animal  blind  of  one  eye,  with 
spavins  and  ring-bones  on  his  legs,  whose  bones  the  crows 
had  picked,  after  dying  a  natural  death,  —  but  a  sleek 
creature  that  understood  every  intonation  of  Dan's  voice, 
and  that  would  put  to  all  his  strength  whenever  Dan  said 
the  word.  But  Dan  knew  a  sandy  road  called  for  a  put 
ting  to  without  any  letting  up,  and  for  that  reason  he  usu 
ally  gave  the  go-by  to  a  family  that  lived  on  the  bank  of 
the  river,  in  an  out-of-the-way  place,  reached  by  a  lane 
leading  from  the  highway. 

It  was  a  September  afternoon  ;  the  sun  was  shining 
brightly,  and  the  crickets  were  making  the  air  melodious 
with  their  chirping.  The  withered  leaves,  already  fallen, 
were  lying  in  windrows  along  the  path;  his  horse  trampled 
them  beneath  his  feet,  and  the  wheels  of  his  cart  rolled 
over  them  with  a  muffled  sound.  "  So  over  our  dead 
hopes  roll  the  wheels  of  time,"  was  the  thought  that  came 
to  him,  and  the  association  led  him  into  a  reverie  upon  the 
past.  How  different  life  had  been  from  what  he  had 

•      415 


4i 6  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

anticipated  !  If  different  to  him,  so  probably  to  every 
body  else.  He  thought  cf  the  changes  that  had  come  to 
Caleb.  "After  all,  it  might  be  just  what  was  needed,  to 
make  a  man  of  Caleb.  Those  who  make  their  manhood 
know  what  it  is  worth.  As  honey-clew  falls  upon  a  pear 
tree,  withering  the  leaves  and  blasting  the  fruit,  so  riches 
sometimes  bring  a  blight  to  characters,"  said  Dan  to  him 
self.  "  What  a  come-about  of  events  there  has  been!  Mr. 
Meek,  owner  of  Caleb's  old  home,  rich,  divorced  from  his 
\vife,  his  only  son  a  fugitive  from  justice  —  wandering  no 
one  knows  where !  What  has  Mr.  Meek  to  put  into  the 
scale  against  his  money?  Nothing.  He  has  lost  char 
acter  by  his  sharp  dealing;  happiness  has  fled  from  his 
home,  and  there  he  is,  sitting  in  his  den  of  a  counting- 
room,  with  the  spiders  above  him,  devouring  flies,  just  as 
he  has  devoured  widows  and  picked  men's  bones,  when 
ever  he  could  get  a  chance." 

Being  lost  in  reverie,  Dan  did  not  see  a  bare  footed  boy, 
without  coat  or  vest,  wiih  his  flaxen  hair  showing  itself 
through  a  hole  in  the  crown  of  his  palm-leaf  hat,  who  was 
running  up  a  sandy  lane  from  the  small  house  that  stood 
on  the  bank  of  the  river.  The  horse  saw  the  boy  and 
stopped,  and  the  stopping  aroused  Dan  from  his  day 
dreams. 

"Well,  Johnny,  how  do  you  do?"  said  Dan,  addressing 
die  boy. 

"  I  am  pretty  well,  but  my  name  ain't  Johnny." 

"Oh,  it  ain't  Johnny!    Well,  then,  I  guess  it  is  Sammy." 

"No.  'tain't." 

"Then  I'll  give  up." 

"  It's  Tim  ;  and  mother  wants  you  to  come  clown  to  the 
house.  She  wants  ever  so  many  pans,  dippers  and  skim 
mers,  and  has  got  a  big  pile  of  rags.  She  is  getting 
HuldaJi's  fixinir-out." 


The  Kindness  of  the  River  to  Mr.  Picket.  41 7 

"  Oh,  ho  !  that  is  it.  So  Huldah  is  going  to  get  mar 
ried,  is  she?  Good  for  her.  I'll  drive  right  down.  Jump 
up  here,  Tim  ;  it  is  just  as  easy  to  ride,  as  to  go  afoot." 

The  boy  climbed  upon  the  seat,  and  Dan  turned  into 
the  lane.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Picket  lived  in  the  small 
house  at  the  bottom  of  the  kine  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
but  he  nevei  had  visited  it, -^jjifhe  road  was  so  sandy,  and 
the  house  so  far  away.'  Mi^Bicket  had  a  small  farm,  and 
managed  by  working  a  part  of  the  time  for  his  neighbors, 
to  get  a  comfortable  living.  The  river  supplied  him  with 
fuel.  A  ledge  that  projected  into  the  stream  jiibt  above 
the  house,  deflected  a  portion  of  the  current  from  its  direct 
course,  and  brought  it  into  an  eddy,  and  the  farmer,  sitting 
in  his  doorway  smoking  his  pipe,  could  see  by  the  timber 
floating  there,  that  a  portion  of  the  current  was  running 
up  stream.  The  drift-wood  whirled  in  the  eddy  by  the 
hour  together,  an:l  even  d.iys,  or  else  lodged  against  the 
bank  for  the  benefit  of  the  fanner. 

Mr.  Picket  and  his  wife,  and  Iluldah  —  the  latter  a 
girl  of  .twenty,  were  before  the  door  to  welcome  Dan. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,''  sp.icl  Mrs.  Picket,  "for  com 
ing  in.  There  ha'n't  been  a  tin-peddler  in  here,  I  don't 
know  when,  and  my  tin  is  all  worn  out.  The  milk-pans 
are  as  full  of  holes  as  a  sieve  ;  the  coffee-pot  has  given  out, 
and  there  is  a  big  leak  in  the  bottom  of  the  milk-pail  ;  I've 
puttied  it  up  with  dough,  and  stuck  a  bit  of  rag  into  it, 
but  in  spite  of  all  I've  done,  it  leaks  as  bad  as  ever.  I've 
a  grist  of  rags  for  you." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Dan.  "  Tim  has  tolcl  me  all 
about  it, —  that  Hulclah  wants  to  get  her  fixings-out.  Oh, 
you  needn't  blush,  Huldah,  there  ain't  nothing  to  be  a  ,hamed 
of  in  getting  married.  I  reckon  I've  sold  about  five  hun 
dred  fixings-out.  I  always  give  the  best,  double-refined, 
27 


4i 8  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

extra  thick  tin,  rolled  out  by  a  patent  back-action  roller, 
and  the  girls  are  always  so  well  satisfied  that  they  want 
me  to  come  and  see  them  in  their  new  homes.  They  most 
generally  give  me  a  slice  of  the  wedding-cake.  Now  just 
pick  out  what  you  want ;  rummage  your  garret,  bring  out 
your  rags,  old  books,  pamphlets,  any  thing  and  every 
thing  that  can  be  ground  up  into  something  new." 

While  Mrs.  Picket  and  Huldah  were  selecting  the  arti 
cles  they  wanted,  Dan  sat  down  on  the  grass  to  have  a 
talk  with  the  farmer. 

"  The  river  is  very  kind  to  you.  I  see  it  brings  your 
firewood  to  your  door,"  said  Dan. 

"  Yes.  If  it  wa'n't  for  the  river  to  help  me,  I  should 
have  hard  work  to  get  ahead  much,  the  soil  is  so  poor. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  will  pull  up  stakes  and  go  West,  but 
I've  lived  here  so  long,  that  I  can't  quite  make  up  my  mind 
to  do  it,"  Mr.  Picket  replied. 

"  The  river  brings  you  some  lumber  now  and  then,  as 
well  as  firewood,  I  suppose,"  said  Dan,  looking  at  a  pile  of 
boards  and  another  of  shingles  that  evidently  had  been  in 
the  water. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I've  picked  up  shingles  enough  already  to 
shingle  my  barn,  and  boards  and  lumber  enough  to  build 
a  shed,  to  say  nothing  of  fence  rails  and  other  things. 
Upon  the  whole,  the  river  is  a  pretty  good  friend.  Some 
times  when  we  have  a  freshet  in  the  fall,  I  get  a  few  cart 
loads  of  pumpkins,  besides  apples  and  shocks  of  corn  that 
come  floating  into  the  eddy." 

"Of  course  what  is  your  gain  is  somebody's  else  loss." 

"  Yes,  and  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  I  don't  enjoy  what  I 
pick  up  half  so  well  as  I  should  if  I  didn't  know  that 
somebody  was  the  poorer  by  reason  of  the  freshet.  We 
had  a  tremendous  flood  six  years  ago  last  spring,  that 


Th'  Kindness  of  the  River  to  Mr.  Picket.  419 

covered  all  the  interval  with  lumber,  drift-wood,  parts  of 
bridges  and  houses,  and  I  don't  know  what.  I  picked  up 
a  chest  of  drawers,  and  a  trunk  filled  with  clothing  for 
women  and  children  ;  there  was  a  heap  of  letters  and 
papers  in  it,  that  Huldah  put  into  the  rag-bag,  to  get  her 
fixing-out  with.  I  found  quite  a  good  coat  hanging  on  the 
bushes,  after  the  water  subsided.  There  were  some 
papers  in  the  pocket,  but  they  were  so  water-soaked  and 
covered  with  mud  that  I  couldn't  make  out  who  it  be 
longed  lo." 

"  If  the  river  was  kind  to  you,  it  was  very  unkind  to  us 
at  Millbrook.  It  swept  away  our  best  citizen." 

"Oh,  yes, —  Captain  Krinkle.  I  remember  of  hearing 
about  it,  and  the  lumber  that  came  floating  into  the  eddy 
belonged  in  good  part  to  him." 

Dan  narrated  the  thrilling  scene  at  the  bridge,  the 
heroic  and  vicarious  death  of  Captain  Krinkle,  and  the 
events  that  had  grown  out  of  it. 

Mrs.  Picket  and  Huldah,  having  selected  the  ware, 
brought  out  the  rags  which  Huldah  had  been  saving  ever 
since  she  entered  her  teens,  and  Dan  stopped  to  weigh 
them.  He  made  Tim  happy  by  giving  him  a  harmonicon, 
and  then,  wishing  Huldah  a  great  deal  of  happiness  with 
the  young  farmer  whom  she  was  going  to  marry,  went  on 
his  way  up  the  sandy  lane. 

A  week  passed.  Dan  had  sold  out  his  wares  and  was 
approaching  Millbrook.  He  had  returned  by  the  river 
road,  and  must  cross  the  bridge,  —  the  new  one,  —  and  he 
never  crossed  it  now  without  recalling  the  terrible  scene. 
There  are  times  with  most  of  us  when  a  thought,  like  a 
flash  of  lightning,  startles  us  with  its  vividness.  It  may 
come  seemingly  without  reason,  like  a  meteor  streaming 
through  an  unclouded  sky  at  noonday.  Such  a  thought 


42  o  Caleb  Krinkle. 

came  to  Dan.  So  vivid  was  it  that  he  stopped  his  horse 
suddenly  to  think  of  it. 

"Jerusalem  !  Jingo  !  If  it  should  happen  to  be  so!  "  he 
said  to  himself. 

It  was  the  thunder  after  the  lightning.  He  started  en 
again,  but  was  in  a  brown  study  all  the  way  from  the 
bridge  to  his  home. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

MUSES    PLAYS   A   GAME   AND    LOSES    IT. 

IT  was  an  autumnal  evening.  The  light  of  day  had 
faded  from  the  sky,  and  darkness  was  settling  over 
the  swamps  and  bayous  of  the  Mississippi  river.  The 
steamboat  Queen  of  the  West  was  lying  at  the  Memphis 
landing  ready  for  an  up-river  trip.  Passengers  were 
hurrying  on  board  with  carpet-bags  and  valises  in  their 
hands  and  with  babies  in  their  arms.  Husbands  were 
calling  to  their  wives  and  daughters  to  hurry  up  or  they 
would  be  left,  and  wives  were  shouting  to  their  dilatory 
husbands  to  make  haste,  before  the  plank  was  drawn  in. 
Stalwart  negroes  were  rolling  barrels  of  whiskey,  hogs 
heads  of  tobacco,  boxes,  bales  and  bundles  on  board  ;  the 
fires  were  blazing  beneath  the  boilers ;  two  black  columns 
of  smoke  were  rolling  out  from  the  chimneys,  and  there 
was  a  hissing  of  escaping  steam.  The  bell  was  tolling, 
the  mate  was  swearing  at  the  negro  crew,  the  negroes  were 
swearing  at  one  another,  and  over  the  scene  of  confusion 
the  pitch-wood  fire  in  the  iron  jack  at  the  bow  of  the  boat 
cast  its  lurid  light. 

A  young  man  with  a  carpet-bag  in  his  hand  came 
leisurely  down  the  levee,  made  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
walked  on  board  the  Queen  of  the  West,  and  ascended  the 

421 


422  Caleb  Krinkle. 

gangway  to  the  cabin.  He  had  the  bearing  of  a  man  who 
^always  had  his  thoughts  about  him.  It  was  the  engineer 
in-chief  of  the  great  Southwestern  Railway,  —  Mr.  Job 
Titicut. 

He  was  a  young  man  to  occupy  so  high  a  position,  but 
the  boy  who  found  more  pleasure  in  demonstrating  the 
theorem,  that  the  square  root  of  the  squares  of  the  base 
and  perpendicular  is  equal  to  the  hypothenuse,  than  in  eat 
ing  his  dinner,  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  somebody.  Mr. 
Titicut  was  making  his  way  in  the  world.  If  he  said  but 
little,  he  had  time  to  think  the  more.  Mr.  Titicut  secured 
his  state-room,  and  ascended  to  the  hurricane-deck,  seated 
himself  in  a  chair,  and  watched  the  scene  below. 

The  last  passenger,  the  last  barrel,  the  last  negro,  were 
on  board.  There  was  the  tinkle  of  a  bell  down  below,  a 
slow  turning  of  the  wheels,  a  splashing  of  water,  a  puff  of 
steam  on  the  larboard  side,  another  on  the  starboard,  a 
drawing  in  of  the  plank,  a  casting  off  of  cables,  several 
oaths  from  the  captain,  and  a  whole  string  from  the  mate. 
The  boat,  being  heavily  loaded  at  the  bow,  was  resting  in 
the  soft  mud  and  did  not  move. 

There  was  a  louder  tinkling  of  the  bell  below,  and  a 
volley  of  oaths  went  clown  through  the  tin  tube  lead 
ing  from  the  pilot's  house  to  the  engine-room,  with  the 
inquiry,  "  What  are  you  about  down  there  ?  " 

The  negroes  by  the  furnaces  thereupon  stirred  up  the 
fires,  and  the  smoke  rolling  out  from  the  chimneys  became 
thicker  and  blacker. 

"  Roll  those  bar'ls  aft,  and  be  lively  about  it,"  said  the 
mate,  kicking  the  negross,  while  the  negroes  kicked  each 
other  and  unwound  a  long  line  of  oaths  as  they  rolled  the 
barrels  of  whiskey  to  the  stern. 

"  Puff !  "  from  the  port  engine. 


Moses  Plays  a  Game  and  Loses  It.  423 

"  Puff  —  puff  !  "   from  the  starboard. 

"  Tinkle— tinkle  —tinkle  !  "  from  the  bell. 

"  Plash  —  plash  —  plash  !  "  from  the  wheels. 

There  is  a  rattling  of  the  rudder-ropes,  a  swinging  and 
swaying  of  the  boat,  a  swashing  of  the  water,  an  infernal 
screech  of  the  whistle  over  Mr.  Titicut's  head  —  heard  all 
along  the  levee,  and  all  over  Memphis,  and  dying  away  in 
echoes  among  the  woods.  So  the  Queen  of  the  West  takes 
her  departure. 

Mr.  Titicut  sat  upon  the  hurricane-deck.  His  thoughts 
were  now  in  New  Hampshire,  and  now  in  Arkansas  and 
Texas,  and  reaching  on  over  the  arid  plains  across  the  Rio 
Grande,  across  the  Sierras,  to  the  Pacific.  He  could  see  a 
sweet  and  lovely  girl  in  New  Hampshire  —  Mary  Fielding  — 
teaching  school,  making  butter,  studying  French,  making 
her  own  dresses,  playing  the  piano,  cutting  out  a  pair  of 
pantaloons  for  her  father,  reading  German,  baking  bread, 
writing  an  article  for  a  magazine,  and  doing  the  washing  for 
the  family  ;  then  turning  his  thoughts  westward,  he  could  see 
tangents,  curves,  bridges,  viaducts  and  tressels.  He  carried 
a  map  in  his  brains.  He  could  see  the  geographical  and  the 
topographical  features  of  the  country,  —  the  rivers,  plains, 
mountains;  the  elevations  and  depressions;  the  waterless 
and  the  treeless  regions,  the  places  where  they  would  have 
to  dig  wells,  where  they  could  have  aqueducts,  where  they 
could  get  ties,  where  they  could  obtain  wood,  where  they 
might  possibly  find  coal,  where  the  grade  would  be  fifty 
feet  and  where  eighty  feet  to  the  mile,  where  there  must 
be  reversed  curves,  and  where  he  could  get  a  long  tangent. 
And  not  only  these,  but  he  could  see  the  relations  of  this 
Great  Transcontinental  Railway  to  the  railway  system  of 
the  country,  what  would  feed  it,  what  it  would  feed,  and 
what  relations  it  would  have  not  only  to  the  Atlantic  slope 


X 

424  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

and  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  on  tlic  one  hand  and  the 
Pacific  on  the  other,  but  to  Europe  eastward,  and  the  Ori 
ent  westward.  Sitting  there  with  the  soft  summer  air 
fanning  his  cheeks,  as  the  Queen  of  the  West  moved  up 
the  river  in  majesty  and  might,  he  took  out  the  great  map, 
as  it  were,  from  the  several  draws  in  which  he  kept  it  in 
his  cranium,  opened  all  its  folds,  saw  it  in  all  its  parts,  and 
studied  the  great  unknown  but  certain  future. 

Other  passengers  were  on  the  deck,  smoking  cigars, 
Planters  were  talking  about  the  prospects  of  cotton.  A 
young  couple  who  had  passed  from  a  church  in  Memphis  to 
the  steamer  with  the  minister's  blessing  resting  on  them, 
were  looking  at  the  new  moon  in  the  west,  and  saying  to 
themselves,  "  If  the  first  hour  of  married  life  is  so  ecstatic. 
what  must  it  be  to  have,  as  we  expect,  a  half  a  century  of 
connubial  love  ? " 

There  were  roystering  fellows,  wearing  broad-brimmed 
felt  hats,  snuff-colorecl  corduroy  pantaloons,  bed-tick  vests 
and  gray  coats.  They  had  long  black  hair,  sallow  counte 
nances,  sunken  eyes,  and  expressionless  faces,  and  were 
chewing  rank  tobacco.  There  were  women,  tall,  lean,  lan 
tern-jawed,  weaiing  coirse  kersey  dresses  They  passed 
the  evening  away  by  chewing  a  stick,  and  dipping  the 
broomed  end  in  a  tin  dipper  filled  with  snuff,  then  rubbing 
it  into  their  gums.  At  times  they  smoked  corn-cob  pipes. 
They  sat  for  the  most  part  in  silence. 

Moving  here  and  there  about  the  boat  —  now  in  the  sa 
loon,  and  now  on  the  upper  deck — was  a  young  man  with  a 
smoothly-shaven  face,  wearing  a  white  necktie  and  a  suit 
cf  black. 

"  A  young  minister,"  said  Mr.  Titicut  to  himself. 

Who  was  this  young  clergyman?  Job  thought  he  had 
seen  him  before.  He  thought  over  all  the  young  ministers 


Moses  Plays  a  Game  and  Loses  It.  425 

of  his  acquaintance,  all  the  students  he  had  known  in  col 
lege,  but  though  he  could  see  the  continent  from  the  Atlan 
tic  to  the  Pacific,  though  he  could  locate  a  trans-continen 
tal  railroad,  he  could  not  locate  the  man  before  him.  The 
associations  connected  with  him  were  like  a  half-remem 
bered  dream — so  unsubstantial  that  he  could  not  grasp 
them. 

The  minister  descended  to  the  cabin,  and  one  by  one 
the  passengers  went  below  to  their  state-rooms,  leaving-"*"* 
Mr.  Titicut  studying  the  great  map,  invisible  to  all  but  hinj- 
self.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  folded  it  up  and  laid 
it  away  in  one  corner  of  his  brain.  Then  he  descended 
the  stairs  to  the  saloon  where  a  party  were  playing  cards. 
They  were  seated  around  a  table,  absorbed  in  the  game. 
All  the  lights  in  the  saloon  had  been  extinguished  or 
turned  clown,  excepting  those  in  the  chandelier  above 
them.  The  glass  shades  were  tinkling  to  the  plashing  of 
the  wheel  and  the  steady  clank — clank  —  clank  of  the 
engines.  He  saw  that  they  were  playing  poker. 

On  one  side  of  the  table  sat  a  tall,  athletic,  dark- 
featured  man,  with  heavy  eyebrows  and  long  black  hair. 
He  wore  a  plaid  vest  and  a  scarlet  necktie  and  had  a 
showy  watch-chain.  Job  had  been  long  enough  in  that 
section  of  the  country  and  was  observant  enough  of  men 
to  see  at  a  glance  that  he  was  a  man  to  be  avoided.  He 
also  wore  a  belt  around  his  waist  and  took  no  pains  to  con 
ceal  the  revolver  and  knife  attached  to  it.  Although  he 
did  not  speak,  there  was  that  in  his  bronzed  face  and  in  his 
every  action  which  said,  "  I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with."  It 
was  so  plainly  written  in  all  his  features  that  every  looker- 
on  comprehended  it,  and  the  desperado  knew  that  they  so 
understood  him. 

One  by  one  the  players  dropped  off  from  the  game,  hav- 


426  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

ing  lost  their  money,  or  else  the  stakes  were  beyond  their 
means,  but  there  was  one  young  man  with  sandy  hair,  sit 
ting  with  his  back  to  Job,  who,  though  he  had  seen  a  large 
portion  of  his  money  slip  out  of  his  own  hands  into  the 
hands  of  the  desperado,  seemed  to  be  disposed  to  continue 
the  game.  Those  who  had  ceased  playing,  and  those  who 
had  not  played  at  all,  drew  their  chairs  around  the  table  to 
watch  the  result. 

The  young  minister,  as  if  wanting  to  see  how  it  would 
come,  out,  and  yet  not  quite  ready  to  countenance  it  by 
drawing  his  chair  up  to  the  table,  took  a  seat  behind  the 
desperado  and  tipped  back  against  the  ceiling.  As  if  fur 
ther  to  show  that  the  game  had  no  great  attraction  for  him, 
he  lighted  a  cigar,  and,  half  closing  his  eyes,  commenced 
smoking. 

Who  was  he  ?  Job  scanned  his  features  in  vain.  He 
had  seen  him  somewhere,  but  the  some  would  not  settle 
down  into  any  particular  where.  Silence.  The  plashing 
of  the  wheels,  the  clank  of  the  engine,  the  tinkling  of  the 
glass  globes  above,  them,  the  trembling  of  the  boat,  the 
throwing  down  of  the  cards,  and  the  passing  of  money 
from  one  to  the  other,  thdfce  were  the  only  sounds  breaking 
the  stillness. 

Job  found  himself  getting  interested  in  the  game.  The 
red-haired  young  man  had  been  losing,  but  now  luck 
seemed  to  be  turning  in  his  favor.  Thus  far  Job  had  seen 
only  the  back  of  his  head  and  his  red  whiskers,  but  he 
could  see  that  he  was  playing  cautiously,  and  had  his  wits 
about  him. 

The  player  turned  his  head. 

"  I  have  seen  that  face  before,"  said  Job,  to  himself,  but 
where  ?"  He  would  like  to  know.  He  rose  from  his  seat, 
walked  down  the  cabin,  came  back  and  stood  where  he 


Moses  Plays  a  Game  and  Loses  It.  42  7 

could  scan  the  features  of  the  player,  and  saw  Moses. 
Meek  !  Six  years  had  passed  away  since  Job  last  saw 
him,  but  that  was  his  old  schoolmate.  That  retreating 
forehead,  those  light  eyebrows,  those  red  eyes,  belonged 
to  nobody  but  Moses.  He  was  smoothly  shaven,  his 
cheeks  were  florid,  his  countenance  fresh  and  fair  when 
Job  last  saw  him,  but  now  his  beard  was  full  and  long,  and 
hung  in  a  mass  upon  his  breast.  His  countenance  was 
sallow,  the  skin  had  lost  its  freshness  and  bore  unmistaka 
ble  marks  of  dissipation,  as  if  he  had  drunk  the  cup  of 
sensual  pleasure  to  the  dregs. 

Job  took  a  seat  at  a  little  distance,  where  he  could 
watch  the  changes  upon  the  countenance  of  each  of  the 
placers.  The  desperado  ordered  one  of  the  negro  waiters 
to  bring  him  a  tumbler  of  whiskey,  of  which  he  took  now 
and  then  a  swallow.  The  spirit  soon  showed  itself  in  his 
flashing  eyes,  and  under  the  excitement  of  the  game  there 
was  a  nervous  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  face,  and  a 
setting  of  the  teeth  more  firmly  together  as  he  tossed  the 
amounts  lost,  over  to  Moses,  who  now  and  then  raised  his 
eyes  for  a  moment  and  glanced  at  the  man.  There  was 
a  malignant  smile  on  Moses'  face  —  of  triumph  and 
revenge.  It  was  a  look  which  said,  "  I  am  paying  off  old 
scores.  You  fleeced  me  awhile  ago,  and  I  swore  I  would 
l>e  even  with  you,  and  I  am  going  to  be.  I  let  you  win 
the  first  part  of  the  evening,  but  now  the  tide  is  turned, 
and  the  game  is  in  my  hands.  I  have  got  the  cards  that 
wili  win,  and  I  am  going  to  clean  you  out."  No  words  — 
only  the  smile.  There  was  a  challenge  in  it,  which,  if  de 
clined,  would  brand  the  other  as  a  coward,  and  the  desper 
ado  was  not  a  man  to  decline  a  challenge  of  that  sort, 
even  if  he  were  to  rise  penniless  from  the  table.  The 
smile  was  more  than  whiskey  to  inflame  Moses'  antagonist. 


428  Caleb  Krinkle. 

.There  was  a  knitting  of  his  brows  and  a  slight  trembling 
'"'of  his  fingers  as  he  shuffled  the  cards. 

No  whisper  now  from  the  lookers-on,  but  a  silence  so 
deep  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  plashing  of  the  wheels, 
the  tinkling  of  the  globes,  and  the  jar  of  the  boat,  they 
might  have  heard  the  beating  of  their  hearts.  The  clergy 
man  had  smoked  out  his, cigar,  and  lighted  another.  "An 
inveterate  smoker  for  a  clergyman,"  said  Job  to  himself. 
He,  of  all  the  lookers-on,  seemed  to  take  no  particular  in 
terest  in  the  game.  For  a  moment  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
looked  at  the  gamblers  ;  then  half  closed  them  as  before. 
"Where  have  I  seen  that  fellow?  Who  is  he?  What  a 
curious  way  he  has  of  smoking,  —  sending  out  quick  puffs, 
taking  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  putting  it  quickly  in 
again,  giving  several  puffs  in  quick  succession  !  There  is 
a  method  in  it;  it  is  not  habit,  but  method,  —  studied 
method.  I  see.  He  is  telegraphing  to  Moses.  He  sees 
the  hand  of  the  desperado."  Out  of  the  dim  haze  of  the 
past  there  came  a  stripling  wearing  a  purple  velveteen 
coat,  tipping  from  a  sled  at  Caleb's  sugaring-off  party,  and 
sliding  down  hill  on  his  back.  —  Mr.  Flipkin  ! 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  the  method  in  his  smoking?" 
Job  notices  that  Moses,  while  intently  watching  every 
movement  of  his  antagonist  in  the  game,  now  and  then 
lifts  his  eyes  for  an  instant  toward  Mr.  Flipkin. 

"  Shall  I  expose  the  trick?"  Job  comprehends  it  all. 
Flipkin,  sitting  where  he  can  catch  now  and  then  a  glimpse 
cf  the  cards  in  the  hands  of  the  desperado,  is  telegraphing 
his  information  to  Moses  in  puffs  from  his  cigar. 

The  desperado  is  perplexed.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
game  fortune  favored  him,  but  now  he  seems  to  have  lost 
his  skill.  The  stakes  are  high.  Fie  is  excited.  He  looks 
at  his  curds,  but  hesitates  to  show  his  hand.  Drops  of 


Moses  Plays  a  Game  and  Loses  ft.  429 

sweat  stand  upon  his  forehead.  There  is  a  twitching  of 
the  muscles  of  his  face.  The  malignant  smile  is  stiTl  rest 
ing  on  Moses'  countenance,  and  in  his  bleared  eyes  there 
is  a  look  cf  triumph.  The  desperado  sees  it,  and  he 
knows  that  the  spectators  are  waiting  in  breathless  silence 
to  see  if  he  will  have  the  nerve  to  lay  with  composure 
upon  the  table  the  cards  which  will  either  make  him  pen 
niless  or  else  put  a  magnificent  sum  into  his  purse.  He 
sets  his  teeth  firmly  together  and  lays  down  the  cards. 
The  die  is  cast.  With  a  low  chuckle  Moses  shows  his 
hand.  The  desperado  springs  to  his  feet,  looks  around, 
and  gazes  at  Flipkin.  Like  a  gleam  of  lightning  a  thought 
has  flashed  upon  him.  He  seizes  the  money  with  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  draws  his  revolver. 

"A  spy!  eh?  You  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  I'll  let  day 
light  through  you  !  "  he  shouts  with  an  oath  ;  but  before  he 
can  raise  his  pistol,  Flipkin  dodges  behind  the  spectators 
into  a  state-room,  through  it,  runs  cut  upon  the  guards  of 
the  boat,  down  the  gangway,  and  secretes  himself  among 
the  bales  of  cotton  piled  below. 

"-Hand  over!"  said  Moses,  grasping  at  the  money  with 
one  hand  and  giving  the  desperado  a  blow  in  the  face  with 
the  other. 

A  flash,  a  puff  of  smoke,  men  running  in  every  direction, 
tumbling  over  chairs,  hiding  under  tables,  darting  into 
state-rooms.  A  shiiek,  a  groan,  a  heavy  fall  like  a  log  of 
wood. 

The  spectators  are  gone,  —  all  but  one.  Job  Titicut 
stands  there  self-possessed  amid  the  affray.  He  stoops  to 
lift  the  head  of  his  old  friend.  "Do  yon  know  me, 
Moses?"  A  gurgling  in  the  throat,  a  convulsive  move 
ment  of  the  lip,  a  glazing  of  the  eye,  and  all  is  over.  Shot 
through  the  heart.  Gone! 


436  Catch  Krinkle. 

"  Gone — gone — gone!"  It  was  the  steamer's  bell  that 
said  it.  The  boat  was  approaching  a  landing,  and  it  was 
but  the  signal,  but  at  that  midnight  hour  it  was  Moses' 
knell.  Over  the  swirling  waters  it  floated  and  died  in  the 
distance. 

The  captain  came  and  looked  at  the  lifeless  form. 
"  We  may  as  well  put  the  body  off  here  as  anywhere  else," 
he  said. 

"  I  will  stop  and  see  that  he  has  a  decent  burial,"  said 
Job. 

"Just  as  you  please,  sir.  The  folks  on  shore,  I  dare 
say,  will  dig  a  hole  and  put  him  into  it,  if  you  don't  care 
to  stop." 

The  plank  was  run  out.  The  negroes  on  the  deck,  who 
had  been  asleep,  were  roused  from  their  slumbers  by  the 
oaths  of  the  mate.  The  pitch-wood  fire  kindled  in  the 
jack  sent  its  lurid  light  shoreward  upon  a  muddy  bank, 
revealing  in  the  darkness  two  or  three  dilapidated  houses, 
and  along  the  shore,  cottonwoods,  gum  trees  and  oak, 
with  thick  branches  cf  mistletoe  overhead.  Riverward  it 
threw  its  light  only  upon  the  mighty  stream  rolling  ever  to 
the  sea.  A  box,  a  bundle,  a  barrel  of  bacon  and  several 
barrels  of  whiskey  were  put  upon  the  landing,  and  then 
the  negroes  took  up  the  limp  and  lifeless  form,  carried  it 
across  the  plank,  and  laid  it  upon  the  ground. 

The  murderer,  with  his  carpet-bag  in  one  hand,  revolver 
in  the  other,  and  the  ill-gotten  gains  in  his  pocket,  walked 
leisurely  over  the  plank,  up  the  bank,  and  disappeared  in 
the  darkness.  The  bell  tolled  once  more,  there  was  a 
plashing  of  the  wheels,  and  the  boat  moved  away,  leaving 
Job  upon  the  bank  watching  the  dead. 
•  A  rude  coffin,  a  lonely  grave.  No  funeral  train,  one 
mourner  only  bending  above  him.  Such  was  the  burial. 
Life's  game  had  been  played  and  the  stakes  lost  forever. 


J 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

MRS.  PICKET'S  RAG-BAG. 

AN  was  sorting  the  rags  he  had  purchased  of  Mrs. 
Picket.  He  came  upon  a  scrap  of  paper  that  bore 
evidence  of  having  been  in  the  water.  It  was  clingy  and 
stained  with  mud.  He  unfolded  it,  and  read  the  few  lines 
that  were  upon  it.  He  opened  his  eyes  wide,  drew  in  his 
breath,  and  gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"Jerusalem!  Jingo!  Jewhilikins,"  he  exclaimed,  slap 
ping  his  thigh  with  his  hand.  He  read  the  lines  a  second 
time,  and  opened  his  eyes  still  wider. 

«  Ah—  h!" 

It  was  a  long-drawn  exclamation.  A  train  of  associa 
tions  was  beginning  to  unwind.  He  could  see  something 
that  he  had  never  seen  before.  Dim  shadows  were  taking 
form  and  substance. 

"  That  beats  me.  Who  would  have  thought  it !  Per 
haps  there  is  something  more,  who  knows  ?  " 

As  a  dog  digging  at  the  burrow  of  the  fox  scents  his 
prey,  so  Dan,  with  eager  ringers  and  straining  eyes,  over 
hauled  the  rags  before  him.  He  came  upon  a  mass  of 
water-soaked  letters ;  the  writing  was  faded,  the  sheets 
blurred,  and  dark  with  the  silt  that  had  been  washed  upon 
them  while  afloat  in  the  river,  but,  by  turning  them  to  the 


432  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

light,  he  could  make  out  the  writing.  He  knew  the  hand 
thai  wrote  the  in. 

"  Oil,  ho — o  !  Jerusalem  !  Jingo  !  Jcwhllikins  !  "  Sun 
shine  was  taking  the  place  of  fog. 

"That  explains  it  all.  Why  didn't  I  ever  think  of  it 
before?"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  upon  die  dingy 
paper. 

Through  the  day  he  remained  in  a  deep  study.  So 
absorbed  was  he  in  thinking,  that  his  mother  noticed  it. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Dan  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Lots  of  things,  mother  ;    I'll  teil  you  some  time." 

It  was  a  great  secret  that  he  was  carrying  around  with 
him, — so  great  that  he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  So 
tremendous  was  it  that  it  made  him  grit  his  teeth,  and 
resolve  in  his  own  mind  to  s'and  up  with  ail  the  manhood 
that  God  had  given  him  for  justice  and  right. 

Mr.  Meek  was  sitting  in  his  counting-room.  The  lines 
upon  his  face  were  deepening,  they  were  lines  cf  care  and 
weariness  and  disappointment.  With  all  his  politeness, 
he  was  sensitive  to  public  criticism.  His  neighbors  and 
townsmen  who  had  suffered  through  him,  who  had  put 
their  money  into  the  Catawampus  Oil  Company  only  to 
find  that  it  had  passed  into  his  pocket,  v/ere  becoming 
more  and  more  vehement  in  their  denunciation  of  his 
rascality.  There  was  no  way  in  which  they  could  take 
hold  of  him  by  law,  but  they  would  let  every  body  else 
know  he  was  a  swindler. 

Dan  made  his  appearance  at  the  door  of  the  counting- 
room. 

"  Good-morning,  Dan  !     How  do  you  do  ?  " 
"  Pretty  well.     Are  you  busy  just  now,  Mr.  Meek  ? " 
"  Oh,   no ;   I   have  nothing  particular  on   hand.     What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 


Mrs.  Picket's  Rag-bag.  433 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you  a  minute  or  two  on  a  mat 
ter  between  ourselves,  and  as  I  don't  care  to  have  the 
clerks  hear,  I'll  shut  the  door,  if  you  please." 

"  All  right;  do  so."  Mr.  Meek  did  not  make  his  accus 
tomed  bow.  He  had  sharp  eyes,  and  saw  that  Dan  had 
something  important  on  his  mind. 

"  It  is  between  six  and  seven  years,  I  believe,  since  you 
bought  the  Krinkle  farm,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Dan,  taking  a 
chair. 

"Yes,  I  believe  so." 

"  I  have  most  forgotten  how  much  you  paid  for  it  ? " 

"  It  was  the  amount  of  the  note  and  the  interest,  about 
eleven  thousand  dollars." 

"  It  was  appraised  at  about  fifteen  thousand,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  but  there  was  nobody  that  wanted  it.  I  didn't 
want  it,  but  had  to  take  it  for  the  amount  of  my  claim 
against  the  estate.  That  Krinkle  business  was  a  bad 
affair  all  round,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  wondering  what  Dan 
was  driving  at. 

"Just  the  way  I  look  at  it.  By  the  way,  you  don't  want 
to  sell  the  farm,  do  you?"  Dan  asked. 

Mr.  Meek  sniffed  a  customer  somewhere.  Dan  was 
feeling  of  him  for  somebody  else. 

"Well,  —  no,  —  I  don't  know  as  I  do.  Yet  if  any 
body  wants  the  farm,  and  is  willing  to  pay  what  it  is 
worth,  I  will  dispose  of  it." 

"What  do  you  hold  it  at?" 

"  Who  is  it  wants  to  buy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  matter  about  that.  One  customer  is  as  good 
another,  if  the  pay  is  all  right." 

"  The   appraisers,  of  course,  did  not  put  the  full  value 
on  the  property  ;  they  knew  that  it  would  not  fetch  its  full 
value  at  auction  by  several  thousand  dollars.     They  set  it 
28 


434  Caleb  Krinkle. 

at  fifteen  thousand,  but  I  suppose  it  was  worth  that  very 
day,  not  less  than  twenty  thousand,  and  perhaps  more. 
But  if  you  will  bring  me  a  cash  customer,  Dan,  I  will  sell 
for  twenty.  If  it  is  to  be  on  time,  I  shall  want  twenty-one." 

"And  you  got  it  for  eleven.  I  remember  the  auctioneer 
said  that  you  got  it  for  about  half  what  it  was  worth." 

"  But  I  didn't  want  it.  Really,  I  couldn't  afford  to  have 
it,  for  it  took  so  much  quick  capital  right  out  of  my 
business." 

"  And  you  won't  sell  for  less  than  twenty  thousand  ?" 

"Not  a  mill,  and  not  for  that,  unless  it  is  cash." 

"  I  think  that  we  can  make  it  cash,  or  what  will  be 
equivalent  to  it ;  but  don't  you  think  that  rather  an  extrava 
gant  price  ?  You  have  not  kept  the  buildings  in  repair, 
they  need  painting ;  you  have  sold  hay  instead  of  feeding 
it  out,  and  the  farm  is  not  in  so  good  condition  as  it  was," 
said  Dan. 

"  But  real  estate  has  risen.  It  is  worth  twenty  thousand 
cash  down,  if  it  is  worth  a  cent,"  Mr.  Meek  replied. 

"  And  you  got  it  for  eleven  !  " 

"Well,  if  circumstances  favored  my  making  a  good 
trade,  —  if  I  was  forced  to  take  property  I  did  not  want, — 
that  was  my  luck." 

Dan  took  a  slip  of  paper  from  his  wallet. 

"  I  have  a  little  piece  of  paper  here,  which  I  should  like 
to  read  to  you,  Mr.  Meek.  The  writing  is  somewhat  faded, 
but  I  guess  I  can  make  it  out :  — 

"Received  of  Captain  Caleb  Krinkle  eleven  thousand  dollars,  to 
be  accounted  for  on  settlement  and  surrender  of  mortgage. 
April  20th,  18—  MOSES  MEEK." 

"  The  year  is  blotted,  but  we  both  of  us  know  the  date," 
said  Dan. 


Mrs.  Pickets  Rag-bag.  435 

Mr.  Meek's  eyes  were  glaring  from  their  sockets.  His 
face  was  colorless.  A  trembling  seized  him. 

"Wh  —  wh — where  did  you  get  that?"  he  asked,  un 
able  to  articulate  distinctly. 

"The  Lord  sent  it  to  me." 

"  It's  a  forgery  !  " 

"  I  reckon  not.  The  Lord  don't  give  forged  receipts. 
I  am  familiar  with  your  writing,  Mr.  Meek." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  reaching  out  his  hand 
to  take  it. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Meek,  but  I  will  just  let  it  stay  in  my 
own  hands  for  the  present,"  Dan  replied. 

A  flush  came  into  the  white  cheeks. 

"  It  is  a  forgery  !  A  forgery  !  I  never  signed  it.  I'll 
have  you  arrested,  sir,  and  sent  to  the  State  Prison." 

"There  are  two  sides  to  that,  Mr.  Meek.  How  would  you 
like  to  try  a  few  years  in  that  institution  yourself  for  theft, 
robbery,  swindling,  or  getting  money  by  false  pretence?  " 

Mr.  Meek  turned  uneasily  in  his  chair  and  twirled  his  whis 
kers. 

"  You  are  a  villain,  sir  !  You  are  trying  to  blackmail  me, 
but  you  won't.  I  defy  you.  I'll  have  a  warrant  out  for  your 
arrest,"  Mr.  Meek  shouted. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not.  Though,  if  you  think  that  is  the  best  way 
to  do,  go  ahead.  I  shall  not  object." 

Mr.  Meek  rose  from  his  chair  and  strode  up  and  down  the 
apartment,  running  his  hands  through  his  hair. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  where  you  got  it,"  he  said,  stopping 
in  front  of  Dan. 

"  Right  straight  from  the  Lord,  Mr.  Meek,  just  as  straight 
as  it  could  come." 

'•  What  do  you  expect  I  am  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"  That  is  just  what  I  want  to  know." 


43^  Caleb  Krinkte, 

"  If  you  think  you  are  going  to  frighten  me,  you  are  con 
foundedly  mistaken." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  had  no  such  idea.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  am 
going  to  do.  I  am  going  to  compel  you  to  make  restitution 
to  Caleb  Krinkle  to  the  last  cent,  principal  and  interest,  or 
put  you  into  the  State  Prison.  Caleb  is  not  here.  He  does 
not  know  that  the  Lord  has  put  this  into  my  hands,  but  I 
shall  act  for  him,"  said  Dan,  with  a  decision  and  firmness  that 
astonished  and  awed  Mr.  Meek,  who  quailed  before  the  keen 
glance  of  those  blue  eyes  which  were  looking  him  through. 

Mr.  Meek  sat  down  in  his  chair,  rested  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  and  bit  his  nails. 

"See  here,  Dan,"  he  said  at  iengch,  "I  don't  want  any 
fuss  made  about  this.  You  are  a  good  fellow.  I  always 
liked  you.  I  don't  want  to  get  out  a  warrant  for  your  arrest. 
It  would  about  kill  your  mother,  and  would  destroy  your 
business." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  my  business,  nor  mother  either ;  get  out 
your  warrant.  I  can  stand  the  game  quite  as  long  as  you 
can." 

"  Well,  I  know  it  would  be  disagreeable  all  round  to  have 
any  fuss  kicked  up  about  a  dirty  piece  of  paper,  even  if  the 
writing  is  a  forgery  ;  and,  if  it  is  any  object  to  you,  I'll  give  you 
a  hundred  dollars  to  call  it  square,  and  destroy  the  thing." 

"  Give  me  a  hundred  dollars,  will  ye  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  No,  you  don't.  See  here,  Mr.  Meek,  justice  is  justice 
and  right  is  right,  and  you  haven't  got  money  enough  to 
change  wrong  to  right.  Six  years  and  a  half  ago  Captain 
Krinkle  paid  you  eleven  thousand  dollars,  and  you  gave  this 
receipt  for  it  the  afternoon  before  he  was  drowned.  When 
you  saw  him  the  next  morning  take  off  his  coat  and  throw  it 
down  on  the  bridge  to  go  and  save  Winifred,  you  concluded 


Mrs.  Picket's  Rag-bag.  437 

that  the  receipt  was  in  the  pocket  of  the  coat ;  that  when  the 
bridge  went  away  and  the  coat  also,  it  was  gone  forever.  You 
knew  that  nobody  had  seen  him  pay  you  the  money,  that 
everybody  supposed  the  money  was  in  his  pocket,  and  so  you 
sold  yourself  to  the  devil  to  cheat  the  estate  out  of  eleven 
thousand  dollars.  But  the  Lord  had  a  hand  in  the  matter, 
and  he  is  just  showing  it.  Now,  I  didn't  come  here  to  take 
a  bribe,  Mr.  Meek,  but  to  obtain  justice,  and  I  am  going  to 
have  it." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  emphasis. 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  not  quite  so  loud,  Mr.  Dishaway.  This  is 
between  ourselves.  I  don't  care  to  have  the  clerks  hear  us," 
said  Mr.  Meek,  rising,  pulling  out  a  peg  in  the  partition  and 
peeping  through  the  hole  to  see  if  the  clerks  were  listening. 
He  was  trembling  with  excitement. 

"  What  do  you  expect  me  to  do  about  it?  "  Mr.  Meek  asked. 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  owe  eleven  thousand  dollars  and 
the  interest  upon  it  for  six  years  and  a  half;  in  the  next  place, 
you  got  the  farm  for  just  about  half  what  it  was  worth,  or  about 
eleven  thousand  more." 

"  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  go  on ;  I  sha'n't  pay  it,"  said 
Mr.  Meek,  interrupting  him. 

"  We  will  see  about  that." 

"  You  can't  prove  that  I  ever  gave  the  receipt.  You  have 
come  to  blackmail  me.  I  defy  you.  I  sha'n't  pay  a  cent." 

Mr.  Meek  walked  the  floor,  pulling  his  whiskers  and  clench 
ing  his  fists. 

"  Then  I  will  let  the  sheriff  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  and 
the  judge  and  the  jury,  Mr.  Meek.  I  thought  that  I  would 
come  and  see  if  you  were  disposed  to  do  the  right  thing  be 
fore  telling  anybody  about  what  the  Lord  has  put  into  my 
hands,  but  I  guess  I  will  turn  it  over  to  the  sheriff," 

"  Haven't  you  told  anybody?  " 


438  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"No." 

Mr.  Meek  reflected. 

"  See  here,  Dan,  don't  say  any  thing  about  this  for  a  few 
days.  I  want  to  think  about  it." 

"  A  man  can  do  right  at  one  time  as  well  as  another.  I 
will  not  give  you  a  few  days.  I  will  wait,  however,  till  to-mor 
row  morning.  If  then  you  will  have  a  deed  of  the  farm 
made  out  for  Caleb,  and  are  ready  to  hand  over  the  money, 
or  other  property,  for  the  difference  between  what  you  paid 
for  the  farm  and  what  it  was  worth,  with  the  interest,  all  right, 
but  if  not,  then  you  must  take  the  consequences." 

"  I  sha'n't  do  any  such  thing." 

"  Very  well,  you  can  have  till  to-morrow  morning  to  think 
of  it,"  said  Dan,  as  he  passed  out. 

Mr.  Meek  walked  the  floor  twisting  his  whiskers.  He  stayed 
in  his  counting-room  till  late  into  the  night.  It  was  past  mid 
night  when  he  went  home,  and  then  he  did  not  go  to  bed. 
Mrs.  Tansy  heard  him  pacing  up  and  down  his  chamber.  In 
the  morning  he  had  no  appetite  for  breakfast,  took  but  a 
mouthful  of  toast,  pushed  the  steak  away  from  him,  and 
sipped  a  little  coffee.  He  was  very  pale. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  sick,  Mr.  Meek,"  said  the  housekeeper. 

"  No,"  he  said,  as  he  went  out  moodily  to  his  store. 

Dan  was  waiting  for  him.  He  had  been  thinking  the  mat 
ter  over  during  the  night.  Justice  had  been  wielding  her 
flaming  sword  in  his  sight,  and  he  was  determined  that  it 
should  fall  upon  the  villain  whom  he  had  driven  into  a  cor 
ner,  who  had  been  ostentatiously  giving  to  the  support  of  the 
gospel,  who  had  passed  for  a  generous  and  honest  man,  while 
at  heart  and  in  act  he  was  a  thief. 

Dan  entered  the  counting-room  and  closed  the  door. 
Mr.  Meek  saw  by  the  gleam  of  Dan's  eyes  that  bribes  would 
not  avail. 


Mrs.  Picket's  Rag-bag.  439 

"I  don't  want  any  trouble  about  this  matter,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"Just  as  you  say  about  that,"  Dan  replied. 

"  The  receipt  is  a  forgery,  but  I  had  rather  be  plundered 
than  have  a  row." 

"  All  that  you  have  to  do  is  to  hand  over  your  plunder, 
— yonr  plunder,  Mr.  Meek." 

Mr.  Meek  trembled. 

"  If  I  -turn  the  farm  over  to  you,  and  the  things  in  the  house 
in  addition,  will  you  call  it  square  and  kee^quiet  till  I  can 
settle  up  my  affairs?" 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Meek,  you  have  had  the  use  of  eleven 
thousand  dollars  for  six  years  and  more.  That  at  ten  per 
cent  —  " 

"  The  law  don't  allow  but  six,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  breaking  in. 

"  Don't  it !  But  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  ten. 
What  is  sauce  for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander.  Doc 
tors  ought  to  be  willing  to  take  their  own  medicine.  Mr. 
Meek,  I  reckon  that  what  you  stole  outright  amounts  to  about 
twenty-two  thousand." 

"  It  wa'n't  stealing,"  Mr.  Meek  replied,  turning  paler  than 
ever.  The  word  was  not  a  pleasant  one  to  his  ears. 

"  I  reckon  that  the  judge  and  jury  will  call  it  stealing  ;  but 
if  you  are  ready  to  make  restitution,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will 
do  :  If  you  will  turn  over  the  farm  and  all  there  is  in  the 
house,  and  twenty  thousand  in  cash,  I  will  let  you  have  that 
little  bit  of  paper  I  have  in  my  pocket." 

"I  sha'n't  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Meek,  slapping  his  hand  upon 
the  table. 

"(jood-morning  !"  said  Dan,  bowing,  opening  the  door, 
passing  out,  and  walking  down  the  street. 

"Dan  !  Dan  !  Mr.  Meek  wants  to  see  you." 

One  of  Mr.  Meek's  clerks  was  calling  him,  and  Dan  went 
bac>  Mr.  Meek  was  sitting  in  his  chair,  but  his  hands  trem 
ble'  ind  his  lips  quivered  and  he  was  very  pale. 


440  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"Dan,  if  I  do  the  fair  thing  by  Caleb,  you  won't  be  hard 
on  me,  will  you?  "  he  said  in  a  faltering  voice. 

"  Of  course  not.  I  have  nothing  against  you,  but  you  have 
got  to  face  the  music,  so  far  as  Caleb  is  concerned." 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  this  accursed  place,  and  if  I  do 
what  you  want  me  to,  you  won't  say  any  thing  about  it  till  I 
can  close  up  and  get  away,  will  you?  " 

Dan  reflected  a  moment. 

"No,  I'll  keep  quiet.  If  you  want  to  close  out  your 
business,  I  will  give  you  time.  I  only  want  what  is  right, 
and  that  I  will  have." 

"You  won't  say  a  word  to  anybody  till  I  am  gone?  " 

"No." 

"  You  will  give  me  your  hand  on  that  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Dan,  reaching  out  his  hand.  Mr. 
Meek  clasped  it.  He  knew  he  could  trust  the  simple- 
hearted,  honest,  but  resolute  fellow;  he  knew,  also,  that 
there  was  no  evading  him.  Like  a  hound  upon  the  trail 
of  a  fox,  Dan  would  follow  him  till  he  made  restitution. 

The  deed  was  made  out.  signed  and  acknowledged  in 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Sharp,  the  head  salesman,  who  was 
also  a  justice.  But  Mr.  Sharp  and  the  other  witness  only 
knew  that  it  was  a  legal  paper  of  some  sort.  Bonds  and 
stocks  were  put  into  Dan's  hands  in  trust  for  Caleb 
Krinkle. 

"  I  hope,  Dan,  that  you  are  satisfied,"  said  Mr.  Meek. 

"You  make  a  little  mistake,  Mr.  Meek.  I  am  nothing. 
It  is  Justice,  not  Dan  Dishaway,  that  is  getting  satisfac 
tion.  By  the  way,  before  I  go,  there  is  just  one  other 
thing:  I  have  some  letters  here;  they  have  been  in  the 
water,  but  I  reckon  you  can  make  them  out,  seeing  that 
you  are  familiar  with  the  handwriting.-" 

"Who  wrote  them  ?"  Mr.  Meek  asked  eagerly,  and  won 
dering  what  they  might  be. 


Mrs.  Picket's  Rag-bag.  441 

"They  were  written  by  Mr.  Meek  to  Miss  Vanzant.  I 
have  no  use  for  them.  I  will  give  them  to  you.  If  Win 
ifred  were  alive,  it  would  be  in  your  power  to  make  some 
recompense  for  the  wrong  you  have  done." 

Dan  laid  the  water-stained  package  on  the  table.-  Mr. 
Meek  gazed  upon  it  a  moment  and  bowed  his  head  in 
confusion.  Dan  left  the  room,  but  through  the  clay  the 
•merchant  sat  in  his  counting-room  with  his  hands  over  his 
face,  or  walked  the  floor.  Never  before  had  the  clerks 
seen  such  paleness  in  his  cheeks.  He  had  complained  of 
a  palpitating  heart,  had  consulted  Dr.  Mayweed,  who  had 
said,  "  You  must  not  get  excited,  sir,  for  there  is  some 
thing  not  quite  right  about  the  ventricles." 

There  was  reason  now  for  his  being  pale.  The  river 
had  given  up  its  secret,  and  by  and  by  all  Millbrook  would 
know  he  was  a  thief,  and  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  close 
up  his  business  with  all  possible  despatch. 


CHAPTER   XL VI. 

A    SMOULDERING    FIRE    BURSTS    INTO    FLAME. 

IT  was  commonly  reported  in  Millbrook  that  Mr.  Meek 
was  thinking  of  leaving  the  place :  that  he  had  already 
disposed  of  the  Krinkle  farm,  including  the  furniture  in 
the  house,  to  a  gentleman  in  Boston,  and  that  Mr.  Sharp, 
the  head  salesman,  was  going  to  purchase  the  store.  Mr. 
Krinkle  admitted  that  he  intended  to  retire  from  business. 
His  health  was  failing,  and  he  needed  rest. 

The  people  noticed  that  Mr.  Meek  was  paler  than  usual, 
and  that  he  had  lost,  in  some  degree,  the  vigor  and  vivacity 
of  other  days.  They  did  not  wonder  at  his  intention. 
Why  should  he  make  a  slave  of  himself,  when  his  health 
was  failing,  and  the  white  hairs  were  coming  so  thick  and 
fast,  —  especially  when  he  was  already  wealthy,  with  more 
money  than  he  knew  what  to  do  with,  with  no  wife  or 
child  or  kin  to  inherit  his  property  ? 

It  was  evident  that  Moses'  robbery  of  the  mail  had  been 
a  deep  mortification,  and  now  Job  Titicut  had  come  home 
with  the  news  of  his  sad  and  untimely  end.  With  no  wife, 
child,  home,  nor  scarcely  a  friend,  there  could  be  little 
pleasure  to  Mr.  Meek  in  staying  in  Millbrook,  where 
everybody  knew  how  he  had  driven  Linda  and  Winifred 
from  home,  and  the  rest  of  the  sorrowful  tragedy.  There 
442 


A  Smouldering  Fire  Bursts  into  Flame.  443 

could  be  no  pleasure  to  Mr.  Meek  in  meeting  his  neigh 
bors,  especially  those  whom  he  had  swindled,  in  connec 
tion  with  the  Ca^awampus  concern.  He  would  be  alto 
gether  more  comfortable  among  strangers  than  there  in 
Millbrook,  where  everybody  knew  how  mean  he  was.  It 
would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  town  when  Mr.  Meek  was 
out  of  it,  the  people  thought. 

Mr.  Meek  was  not  unconscious  of  the  estimate  placed 
upon  him  by  his  neighbors.  He  knew  that  they  would  say 
when  he  was  gone,  "  Good  riddance,  but  bad  rubbish." 
Since  the  failure  of  the  Catawampus  Oil  Company,  Mr. 
Meek  had  not  cared  to  meet  his  fellow-citizens  face  to 
face.  He  had  spent  most  of  his  time  in  his  count 
ing-room,  with  the  spiders  to  keep  him  company.  The 
gray  hairs  were  coming  thick  and  fast  in  his  whiskers. 
Try  as  he  might  to  cover  them  up  with  dye,  Time  got  the 
better  of  him  with  his  bleaching  powders.  Mr.  Meek 
kneV,  though  his  fellow-citizens  did  not  know,  that  there 
was  a  secret  connected  with  the  bleaching  process  which 
Time  was  carrying  on,  —  a  secret  known  only  to  himself 
and  to  Dan  Dishaway,  and  that  Dan,  in  the  kindness  of 
his  heart,  was  waiting  till  Mr.  Meek  could  close  up  his 
business  and  reave  town  before  he  let  the  cat  out  of  the 
bag.  It  was  the  fear  that  the  cat  would  get  out  before  he 
could  leave  that  brought  paleness  to  Mr.  Meek's  counte 
nance, —  that  kept  him  pacing  his  chamber  floor  at  night, 
and  set  his  heart  in  a  flutter  now  and  then. 

But  they  were  joyful  clays  to  Dan.  He  had  taken  up 
arms  for  Justice  and  Right,  and  had  won  a  victory,  and 
the  time  was  coming  when  the  world  we  ild  know  it.  He 
was  only  waiting  for  Caleb  Krinkle  to  return  from  the 
West,  and  then  there  would  be  a  surprise.  The  thought 
of  what  was  coining  made  Dan  very  happy  as  he  rode  over 
the  hills  upon  his  cart. 


444  Caleb  K tinkle. 

Dan  was  riding  along  the  hill-road.  The  night  had  set 
in  suddenly,  for  the  clouds  that  had  been  hanging  about 
the  hills  during  the  day  settled  down  into  the  valley.  The 
night  was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  the  road,  and  he 
allowed  his  horse  to  take  his  own  course. 

"  Steady  there  !  steady,"  he  said,  now  and  then,  and  the 
horse,  comprehending  the  situation,  drew  the  creaking  cart, 
with  its  freight  of  tin  and  rags,  safely  over  the  hills  and 
through  the  hollows. 

But  Dan  was  not  aware  of  the  fact  that  there  was  no 
bridge  across  a  small  brook  that  gurgled  down  from  the  hills  ; 
nor  that  the  highway  surveyor  had  torn  it  up  to  replace  it  by 
a  new  one  ;  nor  that  the  workmen  had  forgotten  to  put  a 
fence  across  the  highway  to  turn  travellers  into  the  field  to 
another  crossing.  Not  knowing  this,  Dan  suddenly  found 
himself  pitched  heels  over  head  into  the  brook,  and  his  cart 
going  over  upon  its  side,  with  a  general  mixing  up  of  things. 
There  was  but  little  water  in  the  brook,  and  it  was  but  the 
work  of  a  minute  to  cut  his  horse  loose  from  the  wreck,  and 
get  him  out  of  the  stream.  The  night  was  so  dark  that  Dan 
could  not  well  discern  the  extent  of  the  damage  to  his  cart. 
He  could  see  that  it  was  bottom  side  up  ;  that  the  pans, 
pails,  wash-tubs,  mops  and  brooms  were  scattered  in  every 
direction. 

•'That's  a  pretty  mess,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  peered 
into  the  darkness.  "That's  what  I  call  neatly  done.  I 
couldn't  have  mixed  things  up  any  more  if  I'd  tried.  Coffee 
pots,  skimmers,  ladles,  dish-pans,  buckets,  pails,  tea-kettles,  and 
the  whole  kit  and  boodle  lying  around  promiscuous.  Dan, 
you  did  well  that  time,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it,  old  fellow?  That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

He  said  it  aloud,  as  if  he  and  Dan  were  two  distinct  per 
sons. 


A  Smouldering  Fire  Bursts  into  flame.  445 

"  Yes ;  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  that's  the  ques 
tion,"  he  repeated,  and  added,  "Please  throw  a  little  light 
on  that  subject,  if  you  can,  old  fellow.  Your  lantern  is 
smashed  flatter  than  a  pan-cake  ;  besides,  it  is  under,  water. 
And  suppose  you  had  a  lantern,  how  are  you  going  to  get 
your  old  cart  right  side  up  again,  without  somebody  to  help 
you  ?  I'll  bet  two  to  one  that  you  don't  get  it  done  to-night, 
out  on  this  lonely  road,  with  nobody  living  within  a  mile  of 
the  place,  except  Widow  Nubbin.  The  first  thing  for  you  to 
do,  old  fellow,  is  jest  to  go  up  to  Widow  Nubbin's  house 
and  get  a  light,  and  the  widow's  hired  man,  Joe  Wilkins. 
Perhaps  you  and  Joe,  together,  can  get  the  old  cart  right  side 
up  again." 

So  saying,  Dan  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  went  up  the 
road.  It  was  not  far  to  the  house,  and  he  could  see  a  light 
shining  from  the  kitchen  windows.  He  found  his  way  to  tiie 
door,  and  knocked,  and  Mrs.  Nubbin,  in  the  prime  of  life, 
plump  and  fair,  and  neatly  dressed,  opened  the  door. 

"  Good-evening,  Mrs.  Nubbin  !  "  said  Dan. 

"Why,  Dan,  is  it  you  ?     How  do  you  do?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  myself,  I  thank  you  ;  but  I've  got  the  nicest 
mess  down  here  that  you  ever  saw,"  Dan  replied. 

"The  nicest  mess  !"  Mrs.  Nubbin  exclaimed,  not  under 
standing  him. 

"Yes.  I  reckon  the  highway  surveyor  forgot  to  put  a 
fence  across  the  road  down  here  by  the  brook,  and  the  con 
sequence  is  that  there  is  a  lot  of  old  tin  down  there.  Coffee 
pots,  pails  and  wash-boilers  jammed  flatter  than  a  flapjack, 
with  my  old  cart  on  the  top  of  'em,,  its  wheels  in  the  air ;  and 
I  want  to  get  a  lantern,  and  I  would  like  to  have  Joe  go 
down  and  give  me  a  lift." 

"  Why,  Dan  !     And  wasn't  you  hurt?  " 

"  Scarcely  a  bit.     Got  one  shin  barked  a  little,  that's  all." 


446  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  I'm  so  glad  ! "  said  Mrs.  Nubbin,  the  look  of  anxiety 
disappearing  from  her  face.  "  But  how  unfortunate  !  Joe 
has  gone  to  a  corn-husking,  this  evening,  and  won't  be  home 
till  midnight.  Just  wait  a  minute,  till  I  get  on  my  bonnet 
and  shawl,  and  I  will  go  with  you." 

Before  Dan  could  make  a  reply,  she  was  away  after  the 
lantern.  In  a  few  moments  she  was  ready,  and  together 
they  went  back  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  They  reached 
the  spot,  and  Widow  Nubbin  held  the  lantern  while  Dan  took 
a  look  at  the  wreck. 

"  Dear  me  !     What  a  mess  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nubbin. 

"  Things  are  kinder  promiscuous,  that's  a  fact.  If  anybody 
wants  to  buy  a  lot  of  stuff  cheap,  I'm  their  customer,"  Dan 
replied,  surveying  the  scene. 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  let  them  be  till  morning? 
Things  won't  be  any  worse  then.  Come,  just  lead  your 
horse  down  to  the  stable,  and  I'll  have  some  supper  ready 
for  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Nubbin;  I  guess  I'll  do  it,"  Dan 
replied,  convinced  that  it  would  be  the  best  thing  he  could 
do,  under  the  circumstances. 

Dan  went  to  the  barn  with  the  horse  while  Widow  Nub 
bin  hastened  into  the  house  to  get  him  some  supper.  She 
was  alone  for  the  evening,  the  hired  man  having  gone  to  a 
corn-husking,  and  it  would  be  pleasant  to  have  Dan  there 
for  company. 

Deborah  was  so  spry  that  the  white  cloth  was  on  the 
table,  the  plates  laid,  the  bread,  doughnuts,  apple-pie, 
sauce,  butter  and  honey,  and  a  plate  of  cold  tongue  all 
arranged,  and  the  tea  steeping  on  the  stove,  by  the  time 
Dan  was  ready. 

Although  Widow  Nubbin  had  been  to  tea,  she  would 
take  a  second  cup  on  this  occasion.  When  she  and  Dan 


A  Smouldering  Fire  Bursts  into  Flame.  447 

sat  down  to  the  table,  herself  on  one  side  and  he  opposite, 
where  Mr.  Nubbin  had  formerly  sat,  —  when  she  looked 
into  Dan's  honest  face  a  vision  of  the  past  came  to  her. 
For  a  moment  she  could  not  help  recalling  the  hard  lot 
she  had  had  in  life  with  Mr.  Nubbin.  But  if  she  had 
experienced  trials,  they  were  over.  Now  she  was  abun 
dantly  able  to  live  easily  and  comfortably. 

Although  she  was  rich,  it  was  lonely  living  in  such  an 
out-of-the-way  place,  with  only  a  hired  man  to  keep  her 
company.  How  pleasant  it  was  to  have  Dan  there*  He 
was  no  longer  a  great  gawkey,  but  very 'good-looking. 
Through  all  the  years  that  had  passed,  his  words,  spoken 
on  that  sad  night  when  he  asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  had 
been  ringing  in  her  ears,  "I  have  worshipped  the  ground 
you  walk  on,  and  always  shall."'  It  was  a  pleasure  to  pass 
him  a  cup  of  tea,  to  wait  upon  him,  to  manifest  her  respect 
for  him. 

"  Help  yourself,  please,  Mr.  Dishaway,  and  make  your 
self  at  home,"  said  Mrs.  Nubbin,  who  at  the  moment 
thought  that  it  would  be  rather  more  respectful  to  call  him 
Mr.  Dishaway,  seeing  that  he  was  her  guest. 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  NuBbin.  Sha'n't  I  help  you  to  some 
thing  ? "  said  Dan. 

"  I  have  had  supper,  but  nevertheless,  to  keep  you  com 
pany,  I'll  take  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  little  butter,  if  you 
please,"  Mrs.  Nubbin  replied. 

Dan  passed  the  bread  and  helped  her  to  butter.  He 
was  a  little  abashed  at  sitting  there  alone  with  the  woman 
he  had  once  loved  as  his  life.  Usually  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  carrying  on  conversation,  but  just  then  he  couldn't 
think  of  any  thing  to  say.  Neither  could  Mrs.  Nubbin, 
and  there  was  an  awkward  silence. 

"  Won't  you  help  yourself  to  tongue,  Mr.  Dishaway  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Nubbin. 


44§  Caleb  Krinkte. 

"  Thank  you.  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  for  both  of 
us  to  eat  a  little,"  said  Dan. 

"  I  dare  say  it  would,"  Mrs.  Nubbin  replied,  blushing 
and  laughing.  The  light  from  the  kerosene  lamp  fell  upon 
her  face,  and  Dan  saw  that  it  was  as  fresh  and  fair  as 
ever. 

"  Why  don't  you  grow  old,  Mrs.  Nubbin  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Don't  I  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  bit ;  you  haven't  got  a  gray  hair  in  your 
head.  You  are  as  fresh  as  a  daisy." 

"You  flatter  me,  Mr.  Dishaway,  I'm  sure." 

"  Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Nubbin;  I  mean  it.  And  you  are  as  spry 
as  a  kitten." 

Dan  ate  heartily  of  the  bountiful  repast. 

"Take  another  doughnut,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Nubbin, 
passing  the  doughnuts  a  second  time. 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Nubbin.  I  have  eaten  so  much 
already  that  my  appetite  says,  'Do  not.'" 

"  O  Mr.  Dishaway,  you  are  a  funny  man  !  "  Mrs.  Nubbin 
replied,  laughing  r.t  the  pun.  Then  you  must  take  another 
piece  of  pie,"  she  added. 

"I  should  like  to  please  you,  Mrs.  Nubbin,  and  perhaps 
if  I  were  to  stand  up  awhile,  I  might  do  it,  but  I've  eaten 
so  much  already  that  I  dare  Say  I  shall  dream  of  my 
grandmann." 

Mrs.  Nubbin  laughed  again,  but  as  Dan  could  eat  no 
more,  they  rose  from  the  table,  and  while  Mrs.  Nubbin  was 
clearing  it,  he  sat  by  the  (ire,  warming  his  feet.  It  was  a 
cheerful  fire  that  was  blazing  on  the  hearth.  Mrs. 
Nubbin  used  a  stove  in  winter,  but  during  the  summer  and 
fall  she  moved  it  into  the  back  room,  and  when  the  even 
ings  were  chilly,  kindled  a  fire  in  the  fire-place.  She  threw  a 
pine  knot  upon  the  fire,  and  soon  the  room  was  aglow  with 


A  Smouldering  Fire  Bursts  into  Flame.  449 

light.  When  she  had  put  the  dishes  away,  she  took  her 
knitting-work  and  sat  down  in  the  corner  opposite  Dan. 

"I  should  think,  Mr.  Dishaway,  that  you  would  get  tired 
of  going  the  same  rounds  year  after  year." 

"  Well,  it  is  an  old  story,  but  if  I  were  to  stop  peddling, 
who  would  buy  the  old  rags  ?  How  would  the  girls  ever 
get  their  fixings-out  of  tin  ?  Who  would  give  rattles  to  the 
babies?  " 

"I  didn't  think  of  that.  Sure  enough,  who  would?  but 
then,  I  should  think  you  would  want  to  settle  down." 

"  Well,  I  should  kinder  like  to,  but  I've  been  going  so 
long  that  I'm  about  like  the  Dutchman  who  had  a  cork 
leg  with  a  lot  of  machinery  inside  of  it,  and  when  he  got 
to  going  he  couldn't  stop." 

Mrs.  Nubbin  laughed  again. 

"  It  does  me  good  to  hear  you  laugh,  Deb  —  Mrs.  Nubbin, 
I  mean.  Excuse  me,"  said  Dan,  blushing. 

"Call  me  Deborah,  Mr.  Dishaway.  That  is  my  name, 
and  it  will  seem  like  old  times." 

"  And  you  just  call  me  Dan.  It  don't  seem  natural  to 
be  called  Mr.  Dishaway,"  Dan  replied. 

"  Thank  you,  Dan,"  said  Deborah,  blushing  again. 

"  I  declare,  if  I  haven't  dropped  a  stitch,"  she  added, 
leaning  forward  and  examining  her  knitting. 

"  That's  the  way  with  all  of  us  in  life,  we  are  always 
dropping  stitches.  We  are  always  doing  something  which 
we  wish  afterwards  we  hadn't,  and  when  we've  done  the 
best  we  can,  the  work  isn't  near  as  good  as  we  wish  it 
was,"  said  Dan. 

"That  is  so,"  Deborah  replied,  with  a  sigh.  She  was 
thinking  of  the  great  stitch  that  she  dropped  when  she  re 
jected  the  offer  of  such  a  kind-hearted  man. 

Not  till  he  heard  the  sigh  did  it  occur  to  Dan  that  Deb- 
29 


45°  Caleb  Krinklc. 

orah  was  thinking  of  the  past,  and  then  his  heart  smote 
him  for  saying  any  thing  that  would  trouble  her. 

Deborah  was  still  bending  forward,  looking  at  her  work. 
He  saw  a  tear  drop  upon  her  hand.  The  sight  of  it 
brought  to  remembrance  all  the  past.  When  Deborah 
married  Mr.  Nubbin,  Dan  had  said  to  himself,  "  I  have  no 
right  to  love  her  any  longer.  She  is  dead  to  me  forever.'' 
So,  while  ever  treating  her  with  the  utmost  respect,  he  had 
schooled  himself  to  think  of  her  only  as  a  friend.  But 
the  old  love  was  not  wholly  extinguished.  As  a  smoulder 
ing  brand  is  fanned  by  the  breeze,  so  the  sight  of  Deborah, 
so  plump  and  fair,  and  in  the  full  vigor  of  womanhood, 
rekindled  his  love. 

Why  should  he  not  utter  the  words  that  were  on  his 
tongue.  He  must.  Better  to  have  the  flame  extinguished 
at  once  than  to  feed  it  till  it  became  a  consuming  fire. 

"  Deborah  ! " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  May  I  come  and  sit  by  your  side  ?  " 

She  did  not  reply,  but  drew  her  hand  quickly  across  her 
eyes  to  clash  away  the  tears.  Dan  moved  his  chair,  sat 
down  by  her  side,  and  took  her  hand. 

"  O  Deborah  !  I  thought  it  was  dead,  but  it  isn't  —  it 
has  come  back  —  the  old  love.  Will  you  be  my  wife?" 

It  was  the  same  question  he  had  asked  in  the  years  gone 
by.  Many  times  since  then  she  had  wished  that  she  had 
said  Yes  on  that  eventful  night. 

"'  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  your  wife,  Dan,  but  I  will  do 
what  I  can  to  make  you  happy,"  was  the  faint  reply  that 
came  to  him. 

"  God  bless  you,  Deborah."  And  of  all  the  glad  moments 
of  Dan's  life  that  was  the  most  blissful. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

A   GREAT    QUESTION. 

IN  the  wilds  of  Michigan  and  Wisconsin,  threading  his 
way  through  the  pathless  forest,  looking  after  the  pine 
lands  purchased  by  Mr.  Wayland,  Caleb  passed  the  sum 
mer.  He  had  but  one  companion,  Peter  Bottineau,  his 
guide  —  a  Chippewa  half-breed  — \vho,  in  the  cloudiest  day 
and  in  the  densest  forest,  knew  which  way  to  go.  They 
had  a  simple  outfit,  a  small  shelter  tent,  which  they  could 
put  up  at  night  on  a  couple  of  sticks.  A  stew-pan,  coffee 
pot,  tin  cups,  plates,  and  a  bag  of  flour,  baking-powder, 
sugar  and  salt  pork,  —  all  of  which  they  could  carry  on 
their  shoulders.  They  trusted  to  their  guns  for  meat,  and 
they  were  never  in  want  of  venison  or  fowl.  If  they 
wished  for  a  supper  of  trout,  they  had  but  to  cast  their 
hooks  into  the  streams.  When  the  flour,  sugar  and  pork 
ran  low,  Bottineau  left  Caleb  in  the  forest,  and  replen 
ished  the  commissariat  at  the  nearest  settlement. 

His  work  in  the  pineries  completed,  Caleb  passed  over 
to  the  prairies  of  Minnesota,  and  there,  as  the  distances 
were  long  and  horses  could  be  used  to  advantage,  he  pur 
chased  one  for  himself,  another  for  Bottineau,  and  a  third 
to  transport  their  outfit. 

To  Caleb  there  were  indescribable  charms  in  the  soli- 

151 


452  Caleb  Krinkle. 

tude  of  the  prairie.  The  curlews  piped  around  him, 
crying,  "  Quit  it !  Quit  it !  Quit  it !  "  as  if  warning  him 
away  from  their  haunts  and  homes.  The  prairie  fowl 
ran  through  the  waving  grass,  or  flew  away  on  whirring 
wings.  The  crows  called  to  him  from  the  upper  air,  while 
around,  on  every  hand,  arose  the  ceaseless  hum  of  in 
sects  and  the  chirping  of  innumerable  crickets. 

When  night  came,  they  set  up  their  tent  by  some  wind 
ing  stream,  or  by  the  shore  of  a  lake,  kindled  a  fire,  baked 
their  cakes,  set  the  coffee-pot  on  the  coals,  hung  a  joint  of 
venison  upon  a  stick,  laid  a  few  slices  of  pork  in  the  fry- 
kettle,  and  sat  down  to  a  luxurious  repast. 

In  the  long  summer  evenings,  while  the  twilight  lin 
gered,  Bottineau  narrated  his  adventures  upon  the  plains 
while  hunting  the  buffalo  or  righting  the  Sioux  —  the  implac 
able  enemies  of  the  Chippewas.  As  the  twilight  faded 
the  aurora  appeared  in  the  north,  sending  its  flickering 
lances  of  light  from  the  horizon  to  the  zenith.  Like  hos 
tile  armies  moving  to  battle,  so  the  electric  hosts  charged 
and  countercharged  across  the  sky.  When  the  armies  of 
light  had  finished  their  battle  and  had  passed  away,  then 
the  stars  came  out  from  the  depths  of  space  and  shone 
with  unwonted  splendor. 

At  other  times  the  sun  went  down  through  a  purple 
haze,  throwing  its  departing  rays  upon  a  bank  of  leaden 
clouds.  Then  through  the  deepening  gloom  Caleb  caught 
glimpses  of  celestial  architecture,  —  castles,  towers,  massive 
walls,  gorgeous  palaces,  temples,  cathedrals,  and  all  the 
wondrous  and  glorious  transformations  of  cloud-land.  Then 
faint  and  quivering  flashes  of  light  illumined  those  cities 
of  the  upper  air.  The  flashes  grew  in  brightness  and 
became  sheets  of  flame.  Then  there  was.  the  rattling  of 
thunder  far  away.  Higher,  and  in  stately  procession,  mount 


A   Great  Question.  453 

the  clouds,  changing  from  leaden  hue  to  inky  blackness. 
Brighter  the  sheets  of  flame,  nearer  and  heavier  the  thun 
der.  A  fresh  breeze  ripples  along  the  grass.  Then  comes 
a  blinding  flash,  and  on  the  instant  a  deafening  crash. 
The  rain  comes  clown  in  drops,  and  then  in  drifting  spray. 
The  wind  increases  to  a  gale.  Broad  flashes  of  light 
quiver  along  the  horizon,  or  sweep  up  to  the  zenith.  Bolts 
fall  earthward,  spreading  out  into  threads  and  fibres  of 
light.  All  the  pinnacles  and  turrets  of  the  celestial  city 
are  tipped  with  golden  balls.  For  an  instant  the  whole 
concave  of  heaven  becomes  a  sheet  of  livid  flame.  At 
midnight  it  is  day.  The  thunder  crashes  and  reverberates 
from  cloud  to  cloud.  The  landscape  —  the  sea  of  ver 
dure,  the  oaks  and  elms,  the  wave-washed  shore  of  the 
lake,  and  objects  far  away,  are  bathed  in  golden  light,  then 
lost  in  impenetrable  darkness.  How  grand  the  scene  ! 

While  Caleb  was  thus  spending  the  summer  in  the  West 
Bertha  was  by  the  seaside  at  Nahant.  Though  there,  her 
thoughts  were  far  away  ;  she  was  ever  thinking  of  a  brave- 
hearted  man  upon  the  distant  prairies.  She  was  conscious 
of  a  quickening  of  the  pulse  as  she  read  the  letters  that 
came  from  Caleb,  giving  an  account  of  his  experiences. 
She  received  many  letters  from  other  friends,  but  there  were 
none  so  attractive  as  his.  When  she  had  read  them  in  the 
house,  she  went  out  upon  the  rocks  where  the  surf  was 
dashing  at  her  feet,  and  the  waves  were  creeping  into  the 
resounding  caverns,  and  read  them  again.  Then,  in  reve 
rie,  her  thoughts  went  back  to  that  day  when  Caleb  sat 
there  by  her  side,  and  spoke  those  earnest  words  which 
had  turned  the  current  of  her  life.  She  was  indebted  to 
him  for  all  the  true  happiness  she  had  ever  experienced. 

While  sitting  there,  one  day,  and  re-reading  his  letters, 
she  saw  two  ships  sail  out  from  the  harbor,  side  by  side, 


454  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

the  thought  came  —  "If  I  could  but  sail  with  him,  how 
blissful  then  would  be  the  voyage  of  life-!  "  The  ships 
had  the  same  sails  spread  —  gib, topsail  and  main-sail  ; 
the  same  breeze  was  wafting  them  ;  they  were  moving  in 
even  motion  as  if  bound  for  the  same  port,  and  the  sailors 
on  one  ship  were  talking  to  their  friends  upon  the  other. 
Very  pleasant  was  the  sound  of  their  voices.  The  thought 
came,  —  "  Oh,  if  I  could  but  sail  with  him  !  "  Then  she 
began  to  count  the  weeks  Caleb  had  been  gone,  and  the 
weeks  that  would  pass  before  he  would  return.  So,  through 
the  days,  he  who  had  saved  her  life,  and  who  had  turned 
it  in  a  new  direction,  lived  in  all  her  thoughts. 

The  summer  was  over,  and  September  with  its  calm, 
still  days  had  come.  Caleb  was  looking  forward  to  the 
time  when  his  work  would  be  completed.  As  he  gazed 
upon  the  enchanting  scenes  around  him,  whether  in  the 
early  morning,  when  the  dewy  air  was  fragrant  with  the 
perfume  of  the  late-blooming  flowers,  or  at  evening,  when 
the  sky  was  suffused  with  golden  light,  he  wished  that 
Bertha  were  there  to  behold  it.  The  lands  over  which  he 
was  wandering  belonged  to  her,  and  would  she  not  be 
pleased  to  see  her  fair  possessions  as  they  were,  blooming 
with  late-flowering  petunias,  lilies,  hare-bells,  and  the  wild 
phlox?  Would  she  not  gaze  with  rapture  upon  the  scene, 
and  as  the  fresh  breeze  fanned  her  cheek,  feel  an  exhilara 
tion  of  spirit  and  a  quickening  of  life?  And  what  if  she 
were  there  by  his  side  to  behold  the  scene  ?  What  then  ? 

He  stood  face  to  face  with  a  great  question.  What  were 
to  be  his  relations  to  Bertha  in  the  future  ? 

He  recalled  their  last  interview  —  the  light  in  her  eyes 
as  she  accepted  the  rose  he  had  given  her.  Why  that 
brightening  ?  Why  had  she  spoken  those  parting  words  — 


A  Great  Question.  455 

"  Come  as  soon  as  you  can."  In  the  letters  he  had  re 
ceived  from  her  during  the  summer,  were  confiding  words, 
such  as  a.  sister  might  write  to  a  brother,  or  to  a  very  clear 
friend.  Caleb  remembered  these  :  — 

"  I  miss  you  very  much.  At  the  dinner-table  I  think  of  you  as 
having  occupied  the  seat  at  my  right  hand.  When  I  play  and  sing, 
I  think  of  you  as  sitting  by  my  side  a  silent  listener ;  and  yet  you  en 
courage  me  far  more  by  your  appreciative  silence  than  some  of  my  ac 
quaintances  possibly  can  by  clapping  their  hands.  I  have  a  thousand 
questions  to  ask  about  what  you  have  seen.  I  will  not  put  them  upon 
paper,  but  will  wait  till  you  come." 

Whence  had  come  this  confidence?  Was  it  Bertha's 
gratitude  alone  that  had  inspired  it  ?  She  was  his  friend. 
Was  it  among  the  possibilities  that  she  would  ever  be  more 
than  a  friend  ?  Would  she  come  to  him  in  her  matchless 
beauty,  with  all  her  possessions  and  all  the  wealth  of  her 
affection,  to  fill  his  life  with  happiness?  Could  he  accept 
such  a  love  as  hers,  —  so  full  and  so  rich?  Ought  he  to 
do -it?  What  would  not  General  Pompon  and  Rev.  Mr. 
Cassock  and  a  host  of  admirers  give  to  be  the  recipient  of 
such  attentions  as  she  had  bestowed  upon  him  ?  But  was 
it  Bertha's  love  they  were  seeking?  Was  it  not  her 
money  rather  ?  If  she  were  a  portionless  girl,  earning  her 
daily  bread,  would  they  be  so  devoted  to  her?  If.  despica 
ble  in  them  to  offset  their  selfishness  against  her  purity, 
goodness,  beauty,  wealth  of  character  and  worldly  estate, 
would  it  not  be  mean  in  him  to  take  advantage  of  her 
gratitude,  confidence  and  love,  and  so  come  into  posses 
sion  of  her  property  ?  Would  it  not  be  a  lowering  of  his 
manhood?  If  Beith.a  were  struggling  alone  in  the  world, 
a  poor  girl,  he  could  go  to  her  in  all  his  strength  and  say, 
"  Let  me  help  you,"  for  she  would  command  his  admira- 


456  Caleb  Krinkle. 

tion  and  love.  It  would  not  be  the  old  love,  however. 
The  tree  never  again  would  put  forth  such  blossoms  as  it 
had  borne  in  the  past,  but  it  would  be  a  true  and  abiding 
affection.  If  Bertha  were  struggling  with  adversity,  and 
he  could  have  such  a  going-out  of  his  heart  toward  her, 
why  not  now  ?  If  he  himself  were  rich,  and  Bertha  poor, 
would  he  not  lay  his  love  and  his  riches  at  her  feet  and 
ask  her  to  accept  them  ?  If  he  could  bestow  every  thing 
upon  her,  with  their  positions  in  life  reversed,  why  not 
now  accept  her  love  ? 

But  there  was  another  side  to  the  question.  Might  not 
the  time  come  when  she  would  regret  her  choice  of  him  ? 
Would  not  Society  turn  up  its  fastidious  nose  at  him,  and 
refuse  to  open  its  doors  to  an  adventurer  ?  That  he,  himself, 
could  bear ;  but  Society  would  slam  its  doors  in  Bertha's 
face.  Would  not  Society  say,  "  She  has  chosen  to  step  clown 
from  our  circle,  and  we  will  let  her  stay  there  "?  If  so, 
would  not  life  be  bitter  to  Bertha?  Miserable  indeed 
would  he  be,  if,  for  that  or  any  other  reason,  she  were  to 
weep  unavailing  tears.  With  her  former  friends  passing 
her  by  on  the  other  side,  as  the  priest  and  Levite  passed 
by  the  man  who  fell  among  thieves,  would  she  be  happy 
in  his  love  ?  Would  not  her  friends  look  upon  him  as  a 
thief  ?  And  where  would  be  the  Good  Samaritan  to  bind 
up  her  bleeding  wounds,  —  worst  wound  of  all,  a  bleed 
ing  heart  ? 

And  then,  there  was  a  fair  face  that  haunted  him.  He 
saw  it  in  his  dreams.  Sometimes,  as  he  sat  by  his  glim 
mering  camp-fire,  it  seemed  as  if  Linda  was  by  his  side, 
looking  up  into  his  face,  as  on  that  night  when  he  had  said, 
"  In  God's  good  time  I  will  come  to  you."  And  at  times, 
in  the  solitude,  he  seemed  to  hear  her  saying,  "  True  love 
can  wait  till  then."  With  these  memories  still  hovering 


A   Great  Question.  457 

around  him,  could  he  be  a  recipient  of  an  affection  so 
deep  and  tender  as  Bertha's?  Yes;  for  who  could  not  be 
happy  in  receiving  a  love  so  full  and  rich  and  pure  as  hers  ? 
And  yet,  were  he  to  accept  the  priceless  gift,  would  not 
her  happiness  be  placed  in  jeopardy.  Knowing  what  he 
did  of  society,  he  could  not  doubt  it.  Then  far  better  for 
both  that  they  should  be  as  they  were  —  friends — rather 
than  that  they  should  occupy  a  more  endearing  relation. 

Caleb  had  been  writing  to  Bertha,  —  the  letter  was  half 
completed,  —  stating  that  he  had  been  detained  longer 
than  he  expected,  but  that'  in  a  few  days  he  would  be  on 
his  return.  How  should  he  meet  her  ?  Should  he  stand 
coldly  aloof?  If  he  could  not  accept  her  love,  embarrass 
ments  might  arise.  It  was  by  her  growing  shyness,  by  the 
dropping  of  her  eyes,  and  by  that  perception  which  admits 
of  no  analysis,  that  he  had  discovered  Bertha's  love  for 
him.  He  could  not  say  to  her,  "  I  have  seen  the  dawning 
of  your  affection  for  me,  but  I  cannot  accept  it ; "  nor  must 
she  know  that  he  had  discovered  it,  for  then  she  \vould 
hide  her  face  in  shame.  Besides,  her  friendship  was 
priceless,  and  he  must  retain  it. 

The  crickets  were  chirping  in  the  dried  grass  of  the 
prairie,  but  there  was  no  other  sound  to  break  the  stillness 
of  the  solitude,  for  Bottineau,  his  guide,  was  asleep. 
Caleb  threw  fresh  wood  upon  the  fire,  and  by  its  light 
added  this  to  what  he  had  already  written  :  — 

"  You  asked  me  in  your  last  letter  if  I  had  not  been  lonesome  while 
so  far  away  from  civilization.  I  can  answer  that  T  am  never  alone.  I 
have  had  Dottineau  for  company,  to  begin  with,  who  has  entertained 
me  by  his  stories.  Then,  I  have  myself  for  company ;  —  I  wish  the 
company  were  better,  but  you  know  the  poem  :  — 

'  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is.' 


458  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

"  Tiue,  it  is  a  little  kingdom,  but  there  is  this  consolation  :  there  is 
room  for  its  enlargement !  Then  I  have  all  the  past  to  think  of,  and 
all  the  future  to  dwell  upon,  and  all  nature  to  make  suggestions. 

"And  then  'litre  is  one  fair  face  ever  present,  —  a  face  which  I  shall 
never  see  again  this  side  the  Better  Land  ;  but  I  see  it  as  I  have  seen  it 
in  the  past.  \Vherever  I  go,  Linda  is  by  my  side.  At  times  I  feel,  as 
it  were,  her  hand  clasping  mine,  her  head  reclining  on  my  shoulder. 
I  know  that  these  fancies  are  but  memories,  and  that  it  is  by  the  law 
of  association  that  I  thus  think  of  her.  Oh,  it  would  have  been  so 
pleasurable  to  have  enjoyed  her  companionship  and  love  through  life  ! 
but  it  was  not  so  to  be,  and  I  must  go  by  myself  alone."" 


He  would  have  written  more,  but  the  fire  was  low  and 
the  light  dim,  and  he  had  no  wood  to  rekindle  it.  He 
folded  the  letter  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  might  per 
haps  add  more  in  the  morning.  He  would  mail  it  the 
next  afternoon  at  the  settlement  whither  he  was  bound, 
and  it  would  reach  Bertha  a  few  days  in  advance  of  his 
own  arrival.  Her  perceptions  were  so  keen  that  she 
would  at  once  discover  that  he  could  never  be  to  her 
aught  but  a  friend,  and  she  had  such  nobility  of.  character 
that  her  respect  for  him  would  be  increased  rather  than 
diminished,  and  so  she  would  be  more  than  ever  his  friend. 

It  was  a  cool  evening,  and  kicking  the  half-burned 
brands  of  his  fire  together,  he  stood  over  them  a  few  mo 
ments  before  spreading  his  blanket  for  the  night.  The 
sky  was  cloudless  and  the  stars  shone  with  unwonted 
brilliancy.  Far  away  in  the  west  a  lurid  line  of  light 
-illumined  the  horizon.  Some  hunter  or  traveller  must 
have  fired  the  p'airie,  and  the  horizon  in  that  direc 
tion  was  all  aglow.  He  gazed  awhile,  but  his  thoughts 
were  far  away.  He  could  think  only  of  Bertha,  and  of  the 
possible  disappointment  that  he  had  prepared  for  her. 
Ought  he  to  send  what  he  had  written  ?  Yes,  it  was  better 


A  Crcat  Question,  45 <) 

that  it  should  be  so.  Then,  before  lieing  clown  to  s1eep? 
lifting  his  thoughts  from  earth  to  Heaven,  he  could  ask 
with  an  overflowing  heart  that  the  choicest  blessings  might 
be  meted  out  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

A   GREAT   HOPE    FADES    AWAY. 

r  I  "\HE  Wayland  Cottage  at  Nahant  was  charmingly  situ- 
±  ated.  It  was  far  enough  from  the  shore  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  spray  that  flew  high  in  the  air  when  the  north 
east  storms  were  raging,  and  yet  so  near  that  on  the  calm  sum 
mer  days,  and  through  the  peaceful  nights,  Bertha  could  hear 
the  low  murmuring  of  the  sea  upon  the  rocks  in  its  hours  of 
calm.  A  lawn  reached  from  the  cottage  to  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  and  there  in  the  quiet  summer  afternoons  Bertha  and  her 
visitors  engaged  in  the  game  of  croquet,  or,  when  weary  with 
that,  they  sat  in  the  rustic  chairs  upon  the  piazza  or  swung  in 
the  hammocks,  then  strolled  upon  the  rocks,  and  gathered 
the  tinted  sea-mosses  thrown  up  by  the  waves. 

The  hospitality  of  Beacon  Street  had  been  transferred  to 
the  seaside,  and  in  consequence  there  were  summer  visitors 
at  the  cottage.  Aunt  Janet  had  feared  that  Bertha,  in  the 
strangeness  of  her  ways,  would  lead  a  hermit's  life,  and  was 
agreeably  surprised  when  she  saw  her  making  the  Wayland 
cottage  in  some  sort  a  Mecca  to  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  cul 
ture  and  refinement.  She  was  glad  to  see  that  Bertha  was 
no  longer  discontented  with  life,  and  that  the  gloom  which  at 
one  time  had  clouded  her  brow  had  wholly  disappeared. 
True,  she  still  was  possessed  of  the  idea  that  she  must  care 
460 


A  Great  flope  Fades  Away.  461 

for  the  poor  creatures  on  Negro  Hill,  in  North  Street  and 
in  Poverty  Court,  but  never  before  had  Aunt  Janet  seen  her 
so  cheerful.  She  was  rejoiced  to  know  that  the  sea  air  was 
giving  such  freshness  to  Bertha's  cheeks. 

It  was  not  alone  this  living  by  the  sea  that  made  Bertha  so 
light-hearted ;  there  was  a  rose  in  her  bureau  drawer,  —  a 
faded  flower,  but  fragrant  with  memories,  and  it  would  be  fra 
grant  forever,  because  she  had  received  it  from  the  noble- 
hearted  man  who  not  only  had  saved  her  life  but  who  had 
filled  it  with  happiness.  She  never  was  weary  of  reading  the 
letters  that  came  to  her  from  the  far  West,  written  by  Caleb 
Kr inkle,  narrating  his  wanderings  in  the  wilderness  and  upon 
the  prairies.  They  were  not  quite  such  letters  as  a  lover 
might  write  to  his  betrothed,  but  there  was  a  pleasure  in 
reading  them  such  as  no  other  letters  afforded.  And  to  read 
them  there  by  the  seaside,  on  the  very  spot  where  he  had 
spoken  such  earnest  words,  made  them  all  the  more  enjoya 
ble.  Was  is  it  not  a  pleasure  to  read  such  a  sentence  as 
this? — 

"I  would  that  you  were  here  by  my  side  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the 
prairie,  where  the  sun  rises  from  a  sea  of  verdure  and  sets  in  an  ocean 
of  flowers ;  where  my  horse  tramples  the  roses  beneath  his  feet,  and 
the  air  is  fragrant  with  perfume  and  resonant  with  the  songs  of  birds." 

Would  she  not  like  to  be  there  !  But  more  pleasurable 
than  to  behold  the  sea  of  verdure,  or  breathe  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers,  or  listen  to  the  carolling  of  the  birds,  would  it  be 
to  see  him,  to  gaze  upon  his  manly  brow  and  to  hear  his  soul- 
cheering  words. 

She  had  given  Caleb  her  gratitude  because  it  was  his  due ; 
she  had  respected  him  because  he  never  flattered  her,  had 
never  praised  her  beauty,  nor  the  sweetness  of  her  voice 


462  Caleb  Krinkle. 

while  singing,  nor  her  accomplishments  as  a  pianist.  Her 
affection  had  gone  out  to  him  because  when  she  was  floating 
away  she  knew  not  whither,  —  when,  with  no  meaning  to  her 
life  nor  comfort  in  her  living,  he  had  taken  her  by  the  hand, 
as  it  were,  and  led  her  to  a  restful  place  and  given  her  hap 
piness  and  peace. 

Pleasant  as  was  the  society  of  friends,  it  was  more  pleasura 
ble  to  Bertha  to  go  out  by  herself  and  sit  upon  the  rocks  dur 
ing  the  quiet  afternoons  when  the  sun  was  silvering  the  waves, 
and  in  the  calm  evenings  when  the  moon  was  rising  from  the 
deep,  and  think  of  him  whose  life  was  so  intertwined  with 
her  own.  Her  love  for  him  had  sprung  up  she  knew  not 
how.  At  times  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  have  no  right  thus  to 
think  of  him.  Never  by  word  or  sign  has  he  made  known 
his  regard  for  me.  I  must  not  think  of  him  as  necessary  for 
my  future  happiness." 

Blooms  there  a  fairer  flower  than  the  what-may-be  of  love? 
Nourished  though  it  be  in  secret,  how  fragrant  !  how  beauti 
ful  !  Yet,  while  saying  this,  Bertha  could  not  pluck  it  up, 
and  the  plant  was  striking  its  roots  deeper  day  by  day. 

September  came.  The  summer  visitors  to  the  seaside  were 
returning  to  their  city  homes.  Bertha  and  Aunt  Janet  and  a 
few  friends  still  lingered  to  enjoy  the  Indian-summer  days. 
On  a  quiet  afternoon,  while  Aunt  Janet  and  Professor  Linguist 
were  having  a  game  of  chess  in  the  parlor,  Bertha  went  out 
by  herself  upon  the  rocks.  There  was  a  fleet  of  fishermen's 
boats  in  the  bay.  It  was  flood  tide,  and,  though  the  day  was 
calm,  the  waves  were  breaking  musically  upon  the  rocks.  A 
stately  ship  was  spreading  its  sails  for  a  voyage  across  the  sea. 
As  Bertha  gazed  upon  the  scene  she  recalled  the  day  when 
Caleb  sat  there  by  her  side  and  they  together  saw  a  ship  sail 
away  and  vanish  in  the  distance.  Then,  she  was  going  as  it 


A  Gnat  Hope  Fades  Away.  463 

had  gone,  but  Caleb  had  brought  her  back.  So  he  lived  in  all 
her  thoughts.  The  summer  was  over  ;  his  work  must  be  nearly 
completed.  In  a  few  more  days  —  a  week  at  the  farthest  —  he 
would  be  sitting  by  her  side  once  more.  The  waves  took  up 
the  thoughts  and  repeated  it :  "  A  few  more  days,  a  few  more 
days."  So  light-hearted  was  she  at  the  thought  that  she 
hummed  a  song ;  there  were  no  words  —  only  what  the  waves 
were  saying,  "  A  few  more  days,  a  few  more  days."  So  light- 
hearted  was  she  that  the  sand-peeps  and  the  gulls  came  cir 
cling  through  the  air  as  if  to  listen  to  her  song;  and  the  ship 
that  was  sailing  away  carried  her  gladness,  as  it  were,  across 
the  sea. 

While  sitting  there,  Peter  came  toward  her  across  the  lawn. 

"  I  was  looking  for  ye,  Miss  Bertha,"  he  said. 

"Any  thing  particular?"  Bertha  asked. 

"  Oh,  no ;  only  de  mail  has  come,  and  as  there  are  several 
letters  for  you,  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  'era 
out  here  upon  the  rocks." 

"  You  are  very  thoughtful,  Peter." 

Peter  gave  her  the  package  and  went  back  to  the  house. 

Bertha  turned  over  the  letters ;  she  could  tell  by  the  ad 
dresses  and  by  the  postmarks  who  had  sent  them.  There  was 
one  from  Mr.  Asset,  which  she  knew  was  solely  on  business. 
There  was  another  from  a  friend  at  Saratoga ;  another  from  a 
friend  at  Newport ;  others  from  acquaintances  at  the  White 
Mountains,  Mount  Desert,  and  on  the  Saguenay.  The  last  one 
she  came  to  was  from  Minnesota.  She  laid  the  others  aside 
and  opened  that.  She  was  conscious  of  a  quickening  of  the 
pulse  as  she  broke  the  envelope.  Her  eager  eyes  took  in  the 
opening  words :  — 

"  This  is  my  last  day  in  camp.  To-morrow  morning  Bottineau  will 
turn  back  with  the  outfit,  while  I  myself  will  go  on  to  a  settlement 


464  Caleb  Krinklc. 

where  the  Land-Office  is  located,  and  where  I  shall  be  detained  a 
short  time.  You  may  expect  me  after  a  few  more  days.  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  done  when  I  arrive." 


More  musical  the  waves,  more  joyful  the  piping  of  the 
peeps. 

"The  last  day  on  the  prairie  !  The  last  in  camp  !"  Ber 
tha  repeated  to  herself,  and  then  thought  over  the  days  that 
it  would  take  for  Caleb  to  travel  from  Minnesota  to  Massa 
chusetts. 

It  seemed  as  if  that  was  all  Caleb  had  intended  to  say  at 
the  outset,  but  there  was  more  upon  the  sheet.  Bertha  turns 
the  leaf.  Her  eye  runs  down  the  page.  She  catches  her 
breath,  clasps  her  hand  to  her  heart,  and  then  the  sea-mist 
gathers  in  her  eyes,  and  the  salt  spray  falls  upon  her  cheek. 

The  tide  is  going  out ;  the  ship  is  vanishing  in  the  distance 
and  a  great  hope  is  fading  away,  fading  away.  Bertha  covers 
her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  she  could  not  bear  to  see  it 
disappear. 

Faster  ebbs  the  tide.  The  crescent  beach  is  bare,  the 
purple  haze  is  deepening  in  the  east,  and  into  it  sails  the 
ship.  And  the  hope,  —  oh  !  how  can  she  see  it  go  ! 

The  shadows  deepen ;  the  air  is  growing  chill,  and  night  is 
settling  on  the  deep.  She  looks  again  ;  the  ship  is  gone.  It 
by  and  by  may  come  sailing  into  port  again,  but  the  hope  is 
gone  — forever  ! 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

IN    GOD'S    GOOD    TIME. 

CALEB  and  Bottineau  were  eating  their  last  meal  upon 
the  prairies.  Bottineau  had  been  astir  before  light ; 
had  left  Caleb  sleeping  soundly  and  gone  with  his  gun  to  the 
shore  of  a  pond  near  at  hand,  and  had  returned  with  a  wild 
goose  and  a  duck,  which  he  had  dressed.  The  fowls  were 
roasting,  the  coffee  bubbling  in  the  pot,  and  the  cakes 
baking  on  the  tin,  when  Caleb  awoke. 

It  was  a  chilly  morning,  and  the  ground  was  white  with 
frost. 

'••Bon  jour,  Monsieur  Krinkle"  said  Bottineau,  who,  though 
he  could  speak  English  very  well,  usually  gave  his  morning 
salutation  in  French.  "A  little  white  about  the  gills,1'  he 
added,  noticing  Caleb's  frosty  beaid. 

"And  a  little  stiff  in  the  joints,"  said  Caleb,  rising. 

"  We  shall  have  a  hot  day,  notwithstanding  the  .night  is  so 
frosty,"  said  Bottineau,  noticing  the  sun,  which  was  just 
appearing,  red  and  fiery,  through  the  srncke  and  haze  of  the 
morning. 

The  fire  which  Caleb  had  noticed  far  away  the  night 
before  was  still  burning,  and  the  smoke  had  settled  in  a 
.  dense  cloud  along  viie  horizon. 

"It  must  be  a  grand  sight  when  the  wind  is  high,  and  the 

3°  465 


466  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

grass  tall  and  rank  and  dry,  to  see  thousands  of  acres  of 
flame,"  said  Caleb. 

"  Very  grand  ;  especially  when  you  are  on  the  \vind\vard 
side,  but  not  always  an  attractive  sight  when  it  is  sweeping 
toward  you  with  the  speed  of  a  race-horse.  But  come, 
Monsieur,  breakfast  is  ready,"  said  Bottineau. 

While  Caleb  was  washing  his  face  and  hands  at  the  shore 
of  the  pond,  near  at  hand,  Bottineau  spread  the  table.  He 
found  a  flat  rock  on  which  he  laid  the  goose  and  duck,  for  he 
had  no  other  platter.  He  had  killed  a  deer  the  day  before, 
and  had  broiled  a  couple  of  slices  of  venison. 

"  I  thought,  seeing  it  was  to  be  our  last  meal,  I  would 
have  a  variety,"  he  said,  as  Caleb  surveyed  the  array  of 
meats.  It  was  a  sumptuous  repast.  The  venison  was  ten 
der,  the  goose  and  duck  rich  and  juicy,  and  the  cakes  nicely 
done.  While  eating,  Bottineau  narrated  his  experience  on 
the  prairie — his  narrow  escape  from  being  burned  to  death. 
"  Usually  there  is  no  trouble  in  protecting  yourself  from  a 
fire.  If  the  grass  is  thin,  there  is  no  danger  whatever.  It  is 
only  when  the  grass  is  tall  and  dry  and  the  wind  blowing  a 
gale  that  there  is  danger.  Then  you  must  fight  fire  with  fire," 
he  said. 

"  How  do  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  By  setting  another  fire  in  advance.  If  you  have  matches 
you  can  start  another  one,  and  as  soon  as  it  has  burned  a 
place  as  large  as  your -blanket,  you  can  step  upon  it  and 
be  safe.  In  a  few  moments  it  will  be  raging  as  fiercely  as 
the  other,  and  in  a  short  time  you  will  have  an  acre  of 
burned  ground  all  to  yourself." 

"Suppose  you  haven't  any  matches?" 
"  Then  you  must  flash  your  pistol,  or  place  the  muzzle  of 
your  gun  in  the  grass,  and  fire  a  charge." 
"  But  suppose  you  have  no  gun?" 


in  God's  Good  Time.  467 

"Then  you  must  make  tracks  for  a  pond." 

"  What  if  there  is  no  pond  near  at  hand  ? " 

"Then,  if  you  can't  outrun  the  fire,  you  must  ride  through, 
it." 

"Suppose  that  I  am  on  foot,  then  what?" 

Bottineau  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  seen,  Monsieur  Krinkle,  a  prairie  fire  so  fierce 
that  if  a  man  were  overtaken  by  it  on  foot,  he  might  as  well 
say  his  prayers  for  the  List  time,  yet  there  might  be  just  a 
possibility  of  his  going  through  it.  The  only  thing  for  him 
to  do  would  be  to  select  a  spot  where  the  grass  was  thinnest, 
cover  his  face  and  hands,  if  possible,  with  his  blanket,  or,  if 
he  had  no  blanket,  with  his  coat,  and  then,  when  the  fire  was 
just  ready  to  lick  him  up,  hold  his  breath  and  run  with  all  his 
might.  A  dozen  rods  will  carry  him  through  the  thickest 
of  it,  and  then,  if  his  clothes  are  on  fire,  he  must  tear  them 
off  in  a  twinkling  and  trample  them  beneath  his  feet.  How 
ever,  it  is  not  often  that  a  man  would  be  put  to  such  a  strait," 
said  Bottineau. 

The  breakfast  finished,  the  tent  and  the  outfit  were  packed 
up,  and  Bottineau,  touching  his  hat  to  Caleb  and  bidding 
him  "Bon  jour,"  mounted  his  horse,  took  the  pack-horse 
in  lead,  and  trotted  slowly  away  toward  the  east,  while 
Caleb,  mounting  his  own  horse,  rode  to  the  west,  to 
reach  the  settlement  where  the  Land  Office  was  located. 
When  his  business  was  completed  there,  he  would  turn  his 
steps  eastward,  settle  with  Bottineau  on  the  way,  and  then 
take  the  cars  for  Boston. 

He  could  only  think  of  Bertha,  and  of  the  decision  he 
had  made.  The  more  he  thought  upon  it  the  deeper  the 
conviction  that  he  had  acted  wisely.  Now  their  friendship 
•would  be  abiding.  Society  never  would  pass  her  coldly  by. 
There  would  be  no  bitterness  for  her  in  life,  nor  would  a  tear 
ever  tremble  on  her  eyelid  on  his  account. 


4.68  Caleb  KrinM: 

So,  through  the  forenoon,  lost  in  meditation,  he  rode  on, 
the  hoofs  of  his  horse  beating  the  seed  from  the  dried  grasses. 
At  times  he  rocle  through  swales  where  the  rushes  were  higher 
than  his  shoulders  as  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  and  at  times  as 
cended  knolls  and  rounded  hillocks  from  whence  he  could 
obtain  commanding  views  of  the  wide  expanse.  Although  it 
was  the  middle  of  September,  the  heat  of  the  sun  was  like 
midsummer.  The  thick  smoke  from  the  distant  fire  settling 
down,  partly  obscured  it,  but  it  hung  in  mid-heaven  like  a 
brazen  ball. 

Caleb  saw  that  he  was  gradually  approaching  the  fire. 
He  noticed,  also,  that  the  game  was  unusually  abundant. 
Through  the  thickening  haze  he  saw  a  stately  elk,  with 
branching  horns,  moving  rapidly.  Then  a  deer  made  its  ap 
pearance.  Foxes  seemed  to  be  abundant,  and  wolves  were 
keeping  them  company.  More  deer —  a  herd  tiotting  past, 
seemingly  not  noticing  him.  Had  he  wanted  venison  he 
could  have  obtained  a  bountiful  supply. 

Jack-rabbits  came  skipping  through  the  grass,  laying 
their  long  ears  on  their  shoulders  and  panting  in  the  heat. 
And  now  a  flock  of  prairie  fowl  went  by  on  whirring  wings. 
They  all  but  flew  against  him,  and  Caleb  noticed  that  ani 
mals  and  fowl  alike  were  moving  east.  He  had  been 
riding  in  a  swale,  but,  ascending  a  knoll,  he  gazed  upon  a 
magnificent  panorama. 

A  fresh  breeze  had  sprung  up  and  the  smoke  had  been 
lifted.  The  fire  was  still  three  or  four  miles  away,  but  the 
animals,  scenting  danger,  had  begun  their  migrations.  He 
could  see  a  cluster  of  houses  in  the  distance  toward  the 
north-west.  Around  each  building  there  were  plowed 
lands,  so  that  the  settlement  was  not  endangered  by  the 
fire.  For  several  weeks  he  had  not  seen  even  a  solitary 
cabin,  and  it  gave  him  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  behold  this 


In  God's  Good  Time.  469 

evidence  of  civilization.  He  had  enjoyed  his  summer  work, 
and  had  found  pleasure  in  the  wilderness,  but  the  thought 
came,  that,  afier  all,  civilization  was  better  than  solitude, 
and  that  a  man  to  be  at  his  best,  and  to  do  his  best,  must 
mingle  with  his  fellows.  Now  that  he  was  through  with 
his  work,  it  would  be  a  gain  to  come  in  contact  with  men, 
to  sit  in  a  chair,  to  lay  aside  his  corduroy  pantaloons,  and 
have  his  hair  cut. 

Gazing  at  the  fiie,  he  coulcl  see  that  it  was  rapidly  ad 
vancing  from  the  southwest,  like  a  victorious  army  across 
a  battle-field.  The  wind  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the 
south-west.  Hanclfuls  of  flame  were  torn  from  the  sur^incr 

o       o 

sheet  by  the  wind  and  hurled  far  away.  It  was  like  the 
constant  throwing  out  of  a  line  of  videttes  in  advance  of 
an  army.  In  the  ravines  and  hollows  where  the  grass  was 
rankest  the  flames  leaped  high  in  the  air  and  great  col 
umns  of  smoke  rolled  upward,  obscuring  the  sun  and  fill 
ing  the  sky  with  gloo;n.  Upon  the  knolls,  where  the  grass 
was  thinner,  it  swept  quickly  past,  while  behind  the  ad 
vancing  line  there  was  blackness  and  desolation.  Rabbits 
and  foxes  Heel  before  it,  the  ground  squirrels  sought  shel 
ter  in  their  holes,  and  the  snakes  kept  them  company. 
The  birds  flew  in  frightened  flocks.  The  sparks  and  cin 
ders  were  borne  far  away  by  the  wind,  constantly  kindling 
new  centres  of  flames.  The  roaring  of  the  fire,  if  not 
like  the  roll  of  distant  thunder  was  of  a  nature  to  inspire 
man  and  beast  alike  with  terror.  Caleb  noticed  that  his 
horse  was  sniffing  the  air  and  manilesting  his  sense  of 
danger  by  uneasy  movements. 

For  weeks  Caleb  had  been  upon  the  pathless  prairie, 
but  below  him,  in  a  little  hollow,  winding  around  the  knoll, 
was  a  road  leading  from  the  cluster  of  houses,  four  or  five 
miles  distant,  to  a  solitary  cabin,  which  stood  by  itself  in 


47°  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

a  plowed  field.  The  fanner  owning;  the  cabin  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  plow  the  ground  as  a  guard  against  just 
such  a  fire  as  was  now  sweeping  toward  his  home.  The 
road  ran  through  the  hollow  and  then  was  lost  to  sight 
around  another  hillock,  but  came  into  view  again  as  it  ap 
proached  the  house. 

While  gazing  upon  the  rising  clouds  of  smoke,  and  upon 
ths  flames  leaping  into  the  air  and  devouring  the  rank 
vegetables,  Caleb  saw  a  fanner's  wagon,  drawn  by  a  span 
of  horses,  appear,  from  behind  a  knoll.  The  horses  were 
moving  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  the  driver  was  carrying  an 
umbrella,  and  he  could  not  say  whether  it  was  held  by  a 
man  or  woman. 

There  were  farming  implements  in  the  vehicle,  which 
rattled  upon  the  boards  as  the  wagon  struck  upon  an  un 
even  place.  It  was  evident  that  the  horses,  like  his  own, 
were  scenting  the  danger,  and  were  quickening  their  pace 
to  a  run.  The  driver  was  guiding  them  with  a  tightened 
rein,  but  at  every  step  they  were  nearing  the  line  of  fire 
which  was  being  borne  by  the  wind  diagonally  toward  the 
road. 

The  occupant  of  the  wagon  evidently  was  making  all 
possible  haste  to  pass  a  curve  in  the  road  before  the 
fire  reached  it,  but  the  horses  became  unmanageable, 
and  turned  from  the  path.  The  wagon  began  to  bound 
over  the  uneven  ground,  tossing  a  rake,  hoe,  shovel,  and 
bags  and  horse-blankets  into  the  air. 

The  driver  dropped  the  umbrella,  and  the  horses,  as  if 
still  more  frightened,  broke  into  a  run.  Caleb  saw  that  it 
was  not  a  man,  but  a  woman,  and  that  she  was  powerless 
to  hold  the  thoroughly-frightened  animals.  They  ran  upon 
a  hillside.  Suddenly  the  body  of  the  wagon  went  over 
with  a  crash,  while  the  horses  with  the  forward  wheels 
dashed  away  and  disappeared  beyond  a  knoll. 


In  God's  Good  Time.  471 

Caleb  beheld  the  spectacle  with  horror.  He  plunged 
his  spurs  into  the  flanks  of  his  own  steed.  It  might  have 
been  a  third  of  a  mile  from  where  he  had  been  gazing 
upon  the  panorama  to  the  scene  of  the  accident.  A  min 
ute  and  he  was  there.  He  leaped  from  his  horse  —  and 
looked  into  the  face  of  —  Linda! 

His  heart  stood  still !  The  dead  alive  !  There  are 
times  when  moments  are  ages,  and  such  a  moment  had 
come  to  him.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  cheeks  pale. 

"  Linda  !  " 

No  answer,  no  movement  of  her  lip,  no  lifting  of  the 
eyelids. 

"  Linda  !  " 

No  response;  no  sign  of  consciousness.  He  placed 
his  finger  upon  her  wrist,  but  could  detect  no  beating  of 
the  pulse.  Had  life  gone  out  in  one  great  wave  ? 

"  Linda  !  Linda  !  " 

He  shouts  her  name  ;  presses  her  hand;  lifts  her  head 
from  the  ground.  Whether  she  is  living  or  dead  he  cannot 
say.  Oh,  the  agony  of  the  moment  !  If  dead,  he  can  die 
with  her  there  ;  if  living,  he  can  die  to  save  her  !  He  will 
save  her,  whether  living  or  dead,  from  the  devouring  flames. 
He  can  hear  the  roaring  of  the  advancing  fire.  He  must 
kindle  a  back  fire.  He  feels  in  his  pocket  for  a  match, 
and  then  remembers  that  he  used  his  last  one  in  the  morn 
ing.  He  must  lift  her,  then,  upon  his  horse  and  bear  her 
away.  He  stoops  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  but,  though  a 
giant  in  strength  at  the  moment,  it  is  not  easy  to  raise  the 
inanimate  form  with  the  paleness  of  death  upon  her  face. 
In  his  efforts  to  accomplish  it  he  drops  his  rein,  and  in 
an  instant  his  horse  is  gone.  God  help  him  now  ! 

What  shall  he  do?  He  can  take  her  in  his  arms  and 
carry  her  —  but  whither  ?  Alas !  there  is  no  place  of 


47 2  Caleb  Krinkle. 

refuge.  Strong  as  he  is,  he  is  not  strong  enough,  nor  fleet 
enough  of  foot,  to  escape  the  flames. 

The  blinding  smoke,  driven  in  advance  by  the  wind,  is 
already  beating  down  upon  him.  No  human  aid  is  nigh 
nor  angel  from  heaven,  to  rescue  her.  If  the  wind  were 
to  change,  there  would  be  deliverance,  but  the  flames  are 
rolling  nearer.  He  looks  around  ;  sees  the  body  of  the 
wagon,  the  blankets  and  farming  implements.  A  thought 
comes  to  him.  A  hundred  thoughts  crowd  upon  the  brain. 
He  seizes  the  shovel,  and  plunges  it  into  the  earth,  tears  up 
the  sod,  throws  the  earth  upon  the  grass  around  him. 
With  nerves  of  iron  he  sends  the  bright  blade  deep  into 
the  mellow  soil.  Oh,  for  ten  minutes!  —  for  five!  He 
seems  to  make  no  progress,  but  one  glance  at  that  clear 
face  turned  with  closed  eyes  toward  him  fills  him,  as  it 
were,  with  superhuman  energy. 

Nearer  — the  hot  and  stifling  breath.  Through  the 
dense  smoke  he  can  see  the  red  sheet  of  fire  which  shortly 
will  sweep  with  the  speed  of  a  whirlwind  up  the  steep  hill 
side.  Every  nerve  and  muscle,  and  all  the  strength  that 
God  has  given  him,  is  brought  into  use.  Oh,  for  five  min 
utes  more!  —  for  three!  —  for  one!  He  can  d.'lay  no 
longer.  He  clashes  the  shovel  upon  the  ground,  takes 
Linda  in  his  arms, — •  she  is' but  a  feather's  weight,  —  lays 
her  in  the  shallow  trench.  Is  it  to  be  her  grave?  lie 
picks  up  the  body  of  the  wagon  as  if  it  were  but  a  toy, 
and  places  ;t  on  the  windward  side  for  a  shield  ;  spreads 
the  woollen  blankets  over  her;  crouches  by  her  side;  draws 
his  coat  over  his  face. 

Hissing,  crackling,  leaping,  winding  in  fiery  coils,  it 
comes!  A  billow  of  flame  sweeps  over  him.  He  gasps 
for  breath  and  crouches  closer  to  the  earth.  A  moment, 
and  yet  an  age,  and  then  he  feels  the  fresher  air,  throws 


///  God's  Good  Time.  473 

aside  his  coat,  stamps  upon  the  flames  around  the  trench' 
to  extinguish  them,  raises  the  covering  from  Linda's  face. 
Unconscious  still,  but  unharmed.  God  be  praised  !  Saved 
as  by  fire ! 

Around  was  a  blackened  waste,  with  little  white  clouds 
of  smoke  arising  from  the  still  burning  bunches  of  grass. 

Pie  heard  the  sound  of  approaching  wheels,  and  saw  a 
man  coming  over  the  blackened  ground  in  a  wagon,  lashing 
his  horse  to  a  run. 

"  Ish  der  fraulein  dead  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Gott  in  Himmel !  I  vas  afraid  dat  de  fraulein  vas 
dead.  O  Mein  Gott !  Mein  Golt !  vot  a  vender  !  "  said 
the  German,  leaping  from  his  wagon,  stooping  and 
kissing  Linda's  hand.  Together  they  lifted  her  into  the 
wagon,  and  Caleb  held  her  in  his  arms  while  the  German 
drove  toward  his  house. 

"  How  came  she  with  you  ?  "  Caleb  asked. 

"Oh,  de  fraulein  vas  on  de  dampfboot  mit  me  and  mein 
•frow  and  tie  kinder.  Ah  !  Mein  Gott  !  And  der  vas  de 
sthorm  and  de  sinking  of  de  dampfboot  and  de  drowning 
of  mein  kinder  —  u'n  —  zwci  —  drei  —  kinder  gone  clown 
into  de  vasser.  But  me  and  mein  frow,  de  fraulein  and 
Vinifred,  float  to  de  shore.  Den  I  say  to  the  fiaulein  and 
Vinifred,  '  Come  and  be  my  kinder.'  O  mein  Gott  !  vat 
a  times  it  vas  !  " 

The  German's  wife  and  a  young  girl  came  out  to  meet 
them.  The  kind-hearted  woman  was  wringing  her  hands. 
They  had  caught  a  glimpse,  through  the  smoke,  of  what 
had  happened,  and  the  man  had  hastened  to  the  scene. 
Caleb  knew  that  the  girl  with  golden  hair  before  him  must 
be  Winifred,  from  the  description  he  had  had  t  f  her,  but 
he  was  a  stranger  to  them  all. 


474  Caleb  Krinklc. 

They  carried  Linda,  still  unconscious,  to  her  room, 
bathed  her  pale  cheeks,  moistened  her  lip,  applied  restora 
tives,  and  saw  with  joy  the  signs  of  returning  life. 

Bewildered  and  wondering,  Linda  gazed  upon  Caleb. 

He  look  her  by  the  hand. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Linda?  I  have  not  been  false  to 
you,  and  now,  in  God's  good  time,  have  come  to  you." 

A  cry  of  joy  and  her  arms  are  about  him. 

Leave  them  there,  and  let  love  tell  in  secret  its  sad  and 
tragic  tale. 

Sitting  with  clasped  hands,  each  hear  the  other's 
story.  No  doubt  can  now  disturb  their  trust  and  confi 
dence,  and  such  love  as  theirs  will  stand  life's  sternest  test. 

Calfb  learned  that  the  German  and  his  family  were 
fellow-passengers  with  Linda  on  the  steamboat.  His 
children  had  perished,  but  himself  and  wife,  Linda  and 
Winifred,  were  upon  a  portion  of  the  wreck  that  floated 
out  into  the  lake,  and  finally  to  the  shore.  Having  no 
where  to  go  except  to  a  hiding-place  where  Mr.  Meek 
could  never  find  her.  and  wishing  to  do  what  she  could  to 
comfort  the  broken-hearted  parents,  she  had  gone  with 
them  to  their  Minnesota  home.  In  their  estimation  there 
was  no  person  on  earth  to  be  compared  to  the  fraulein 
Fair.  In  their  sorrow  she  gave  them  comfort,  in  their 
weakness  she  gave  them  strength. 

It  was  wholly  a  German  settlement.  Some  of  the  peo 
ple  could  speak  English,  others  could  not,  but  Fraulein 
Fair  soon  learned  to  talk  with  them.  And  the  fraulein 
was  always  so  wise,  and  so  ready  to  help,  that  the  simple- 
hearted  folks,  when  they  were  in  doubt  about  any  thing, 
settled  it  by  saying,  "We'll  ask  the  fraulein." 

Linda  laid  clown  her  work  in  Millbrook,  to  take  it 
up  again  in  Minnesota,  not  making  vests,  but  teaching  the 


In  God's  Good  Time.  475 

children  during  the  week  in  school,  and  on  Sunday  the 
\vhole  congreg  '.tion,  f.'om  the  Bible.  To  them,  she  her 
self  was  the  gospel.  When  she  had  read  a  chapter,  tokl 
them  its  meaning,  prayed  \viih  tluni  and  nns\vercd  their 
questions — .\\hen  the  lesson  \vas  ended,  they  came  and 
kissed  the  fraulein's  hinds,  to  let  her  know  ho\v  much 
they  loved  her.  As  the  painters  of  old  represented  the 
virgin  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  light  and  glory,  so 
they  thought  there  must  be  an  invisible  shekinah  enfolding 
the  Fraulein  Fair. 

And  Winifred  — there  was  no  other  child  so  beautiful  and 
loving.  Ho\v  could  she  be  otherwise  than  loving,  with  the 
fraulein  to  lead  her? 

By  the  seashore  Bertha  had  read  not  only  what  Caleb 
had  written  by  the  fading  embers  of  his  prairie-fire,  but 
what  he  had  added  after  rescuing  Linda  —  an  account  of 
all  that  had  happened.  While  reading  it  the  ship  had 
sailed  away,  and  when  it  had  vanished  in  the  distance,  a 
great  hope  which  she  had  cherished,  almost  unconsciously, 
was  borne  away.  The  ship  might  return  again,  but  the 
hope  never.  Not  till  it  had  vanished  did  Bertha  herself 
know  how  great  or  how  beautiful  it  had  been.  But  there 
was  joy  in  her  sorrow.  Linda  was  alive,  and  Caleb  would 
be  blessed  with  her  love  forever! 


CHAPTER    L. 

AT    HOME. 

THERE  were  three  passengers  in  the  stage,  as  it 
whirled  up  to  the  "  Flying  Eagle,"  —  a  young  gen 
tleman,  a  you.:g  lady,  and  a  girl. 

The  jolly  landlord  was  standing  upon  the  steps  of  the 
piazza,  ready  to  open  the  door  of  the  coach.  He  was 
getting  gray,  and  his  eyes  were  not  so  keen  as  in 
former  years,  but  he  was  st'll  the  same  genial  man  in 
spirit,  ready  to  give  good  cheer  to  his  customers  and  every 
body  else. 

"  Dinner  is  ready,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  letting 
down  the  step  of  the  coach.  He  used  the  plural  —  "gen 
tlemen  "  —  from  force  of  h.ibit,  having  repeated  the  words 
every  day  for  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

"  A  beautiful  morning,"  he  added,  also  from  force  of 
habit.  He  was  always  polite  to  travellers,  and  wished  to 
make  their  short  stay  at  his  house  so  pleasant,  that  every 
body  wouLl  think  of  the  "  Flying  Eagle  "  as  one  of  the 
best  hotels  in  the  count ry. 

Caieb  stepped  upon  the  piazza,  and  assisted  Linda  and 
Winifred  to  alight.  The  landlord,  meanwhile,  was  opening 
his  eyes. 

"What!  Linda  Fair!  Little  Golden  Locks!  Caleb 
476 


At  Howe.  477 

Krinkle  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  He  looked  again,  rubbed 
his  eyes,  opening  them  very  wide. 

"  Am  I  in  my  senses,  or  am  I  going  crazy  ?  It  can't 
be  them  ;  Linda  and  Golden  Locks  are  dead  —  they've 
been  dead  a  year  or  more,"  he  said  again  to  himself. 

"  How  do  you  do,  landlord  ? "  said  Caleb,  addressing 
him  and  reaching  out  his  hand. 

"Thunder  and  lightning!  What's  the  meaning  of  all 
this  ?  Who  are  you  ?  Are  you  Caleb  Krinkle  ? " 

"  I  am  nobody  else,"  said  Caleb. 

"Is  that  Linda  Fair?" 

"It  is,"  Linda  replied,  smiling. 

"And  is  that  little  Golden  Locks?" 

"  That  is  little  Golden  Locks,"  said  Linda. 

"  Ain't  you  drowndecl  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ain't  Golden  Locks  drowndecl  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  are  dead.  You  were  both 
of  you  drownded  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  your  funeral 
sermon  has  been  preached,  for  I  heaid  it,  and  a  mighty 
good  one  it  was.  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  alive?" 

'•  Quite  sure,"  said  Linda,  pleased  at  the  landlord's  per 
plexity. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  dispute  you  —  it  wouldn't  be  polite; 
but  if  you  ain't  drownded,  then  the  newspapers  lied  like  the 
Old  Scratch,  and  all  Millbrook  lias  been  Tom-fooled.  I 
declare,  this  boats  every  thing  !  Wasn't  you  shipwrecked?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  didn't  you  go  to  the  bottom  ?" 

"No." 

"And  this  is  you,  and  nobody  else?" 

"  Nobody  else." 


47$  Caleb  Krinkle. 

'•'  And  that  is  little  Golden  Locks  ? " 

"That  is  Winifred." 

The  landlord  was  an  enthusiastic  man,  and  whenever  hi 
was  greatly  pleased,  gave  vent  to  his  enthusiasm  by  ex 
travagant  demonstration.  The  fire  had  been  kindling 
within.  The  first  glimpse  of  Linda's  fice  and  Winifred's 
golden  hair  had  startled  him.  He  had  thought  them  dead, 
but  there  they  were  alive,  or  else  his  eyes  deceived  him. 
While  holding  Linda's  hand,  and  watching  the  smiles 
upon  her  face,  and  listening  to  the  words  that  fell  from 
her  lips,  the  fire  had  been  flaming  higher,  and  now  it 
burst  forth.  Pie  let  go  Linda's  hand,  seized  Winifred  in 
his  arms,  and  kissed  her,  then  swung  his  broad-brimmed, 
slouched  hat  over  his  head,  and  shouted,  "  Hooray  ! 
Hooray  !  Hooray  !  " 

Mrs.  Gabberly  lived  near  the  hotel,  and  was  always  on 
the  look-out  when  the  stage  arrived,  to  see  who  was  in  it. 
She  looked  out  of  her  kitchen  window,  and  saw  that  some 
thing  unusual  was  going  on.  There  was  the  landlord, 
talking  with  a  gentlemanly  young  man,  and  then  with  a 
young  lady. 

"Who  can  they  be  ?  Seems  as  if  I  had  seen  them  some 
where.  The  landlord  knows  them.  I'll  make  an  errand 
over  to  Mr.  Meek's  store,  and  find  out  who  they  are,''  she 
said  to  herself. 

She  took  her  straw  hat  from  its  nail,  clapped  it  on  her 
head,  and  tied  the  strings  while  walking  up  the  street.  She 
was  approaching  the  piazza  of  the  hotel,  but  stopped  biul- 
denly  when  she  heard  the  landlord  hurrahing  and  saw 
him  swinging  his  hat.  She  lifted  her  hands  in  amazement. 

"  Linda  !  Winifred  !  Goodness  gracious  !  Is  it  possi 
ble  •?"  She  rushed  forward  and  took  a  good  look  at 
Linda. 


At  Home.  \  479 

"  Linda  Fair,  are  you  alive,  or  are  you  dead  ?" 

"  I  am  alive." 

"Where  have  you  been?  Where  did  you  come  from? 
What  have  you  been  doing?  Oh,  my!  if  this  don't  beat 
all !  " 

She  then  threw  her  arms  around  Linda,  and  hugged 
and  kissed  her. 

"  And  Winifred,  too  !     Ain't  she  dead  ? " 

"  No,  nor  I  haven't  been  dead,''  said  the  child. 

"  Let  me  get  hold  of  you,  you  precious  creeter,"  said 
Mrs.  Gabberly,  grasping  Winifred.  "Well,  I  declare! 
Who  ever  heard  the  like  of  this  !  Oh,  my  !  Won't  peo 
ple  wonder!  I  must  let  'em  know  about  it.  It  is  too 
good  to  keep  all  to  myself!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gabberly. 

If  there  was  any  thing  that  gave  Mrs.  Gabberly  special 
delight,  it  was  the  dissemination  of  startling  news,  and  now, 
without  stopping  to  learn  any  thing  more,  she  hastened 
away  to  make  known  the  wonderful  event.  She  passed 
from  house  to  house,  not  stopping  to  ring  bells,  but,  opening 
'doors  without  ceremony,  informing  her  neighbors  of  what 
had  happened. 

"  Oh,  such  news  !  Oh,  my  !  who  would  have  thought  it ! 
Linda  Fair  ain't  dead,  nor  Winifred  either.  They  are  at 
the  hotel— just  come  in  the  stage — alive  and  well  as 
ever.  They  are  on  the  steps  of  the  piazza  this  blessed 
minute  !  "  • 

Before  the  astonished  neighbors  could  make  inquiry, 
Mrs.  Gabberly  was  on  her  way  to  the  next  house.  So,  in 
a  very  short  time,  all  Millbrook  —  all  that  portion  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  hotel, —  knew  that  there  had  been, 
as  it  were,  a  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

The  women  put  en  their  bonnets,  the  men  laid  aside 
their  work,  the  little  girls  and  boys  shouted  the  wonderful 


480  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

news  to  their  fellows,  and  all  hastened  to  the  hotel  to 
shake  hands  with  Linda,  Winifred  and  Caleb. 

They  listened  with  clasped  hands  and  bated  breath  to 
Linda's  story  of  the  shipwreck,  and  how  Caleb  had  res 
cued  her  from  a  terrible  death. 

It  was  a  triumphal  procession  that  escorted  Linda  to 
her  home.  Everybody  had  missed  her.  All  had  mourned 
for  her.  On  Sunday,  the  meeting  house  had  seemed 
lonely  with  Linda  gone  ;  they  had  missed  her  sunny  lace 
and  her  pleasant  voice,  and  now  to  see  her,  to  know  that 
she  was  not  dead,  but  living,  and  theie  among  them  once 
more,  they  could  not  restrain  their  joy.  They  must  be 
near  her,  must  go  with  her  to  the  cottage,  and  see  her 
in  it  as  of  old. 

Mrs.  Dishaway  and  Dan  were  still  living  in  the  cottage. 
Dan  had  found  time  to  care  for  the  flowers,  and  Mrs. 
Dishaway  had  kept  every  thing  neat  and  trim  about  the 
house.  The  summer  flowers  were  withered,  but  the  ma 
ples  were  gorgeous  in  their  glory.  Dan  was  sitting  on  the 
bench  beneath  the  porch,  tuning  his  violin,  when  the  stage 
drove  up  to  the  "Flying  Eigle."  Having  tuned  his  in 
strument,  lie  began  playing  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer/' 
Though  playing  it,  he  was  thinking  of  Widow  Nubbin  — 
i.ot  cf  her  as  being  the  last  rose,  but  the  best  rose  in  the 
world  for  him.  The  sorrow  of  other  clays  was  forgotten  in 
his  present  joy,  and  he  was  looking  forward  jovfully  to  the 
clay  when  he  could  call  Deborah  his  own.  He  was  play 
ing  the  melodv  because  it  was  sweet  and  beautiful,  and  v\ 

O  > 

consonance  with  his  mood  for  the  moment.  Was  not 
Deborah  the  personification  cf  all  that  the  melody  ex 
pressed?  Dan  saw  a  crowd  of  people  ascending  the  hill. 
He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  shake,  not  knowing  what  to 
make  of  the  commotion. 


At  Home.  481 

"What's  broke  loose  now,  I  wonder?"  he  said  to  him 
self,  as  he  beheld  the  advancing  assembly. 

"  What  sort  of  a  caravan  is  that,  anyhow?"  he  added,  as 
the  assembly  approached  the  gate  leading  to  the  cottage. 

Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  almost  threw  his  violin 
upon  the  bench,  and  dashed  down  the  path. 

''Jerusalem!  Jingo!  Jewhilkins  !  "  he  shouted,  open 
ing  the  gate  and  throwing  his  arms  around  Linda ;  then  seiz 
ing  Caleb  by  the  hand  and  clasping  Winifred  to  his  heart. 
He  hugged  all  three  separately  and  together ;  then  he  danced 
around  them  as  the  King  of  Israel  in  his  joy  danced  before  the 
Ark  of  God. 

"  Jerusalem  !  Jingo  !  Jewhilkins  !  "  he  exclaimed  again. 

Mrs.  Dishaway,  hearing  a  commotion,  came  to  the  door, 
and  there  was  another  scene  of  embracing. 

So  to  her  old  home  Linda  was  welcomed. 

Mr.  Meek  was  in  his  counting-room,  looking  over  his  pa 
pers,  when  the  stage  arrived.  He  sa\v  a  gentleman,  a  lady  and 
•child  stepping  from  it.  Linda !  Winifred  !  Caleb  !  His 
heart  was  beating  wildly,  A  faintness  came  over  him.  The 
room  grew  dark.  He  staggered  to  a  lounge  and  threw  him 
self  upon  it  to  keep  from  falling.  Through  the  afternoon  he 
lay  there  trying  to  still  the  wild  beating  of  his  heart  and  the 
wilder  tumult  in  his  brain. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

A   BUZZING    IN    MILLBROOK. 

THANKSGIVING  was  at  hand,  and  as  Caleb  and  Linda, 
and  Job  and  Mary  were  to  be  married  in  the  meeting 
house  at  the  close  of  the  service,  the  occasion  promised  to 
be  of  unusual  interest.  The  parties  had  so  many  friends  who 
wanted  to  be  present  when  they  were  married,  and  as  there 
was  no  private  house  that  could  hold  them  all,  they  had  con 
sented  to  the  arrangement.  The  occasion  promised  to  be 
all  the  more  interesting  because  Bertha  Wayland  would  be 
there.  An  abiding  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  Mary 
and  Bertha  at  Hilltown,  and  in  those  enthusiastic  days  the 
girls  had  entered  into  a  solemn  covenant  to  attend  each 
other's  wedding.  Bertha,  therefore,  was  coming  to  keep  her 
promise. 

All  Millbrook  intended  to  be  present  to  witness  the  cere 
mony.  Although  Caleb  had  been  gone  so  long,  yet  he  had  a 
host  of  friends.  The  old  men  wanted  to  be  there  to  shake 
hands  with  him,  for  they  respected  his  devotion  to  principle. 
Men  in  the  prime  of  life,  who  knew  how  hard  it  was  to  get 
on  in  the  world,  liked  his  pluck  in  fighting  with  adversity  and 
conquering  it.  The  young  ladies  admired  him  because  he 
was  brave  and  good.  The  married  women,  who  knew  the 
worth  of  a  strong  man's  love,  wanted  to  take  him  by  the  hand 
482 


A  Bttzzing  in  Millbrook.  483 

and  thank  him  for  his  devotion  to  Linda.  A  love  that  could 
not  be  bought  with  money  and  beauty,  to  say  nothing  of 
Bertha's  sterling  character,  would  stand  the  wear  and  tear 
of  life.  All  the  boys  and  girls  in  Millbrook  wanted  to  be 
at  the  wedding  to  see  how  a  marriage  was  performed ;  and 
besides,  they  had  heard  their  fathers  and  mothers  say  so 
much  about  what  Caleb  had  done,  that  they  looked  upon  him 
as  a  hero.  Then  Linda  was  so  good,  and  there  had  been  so 
much  of  romance  in  her  life,  that  everybody  wanted  to  be 
present  when  she  was  married.  More  than  this,  Job  had 
worked  his  way  in  life  so  steadily  and  successfully,  that  it 
would  be  a  pleasure  to  see  him  married  to  one  of  the  best 
girls  in  town.  When  it  was  known  that  Bertha  Wayland,  the 
beautiful  lady  whom  Caleb  could  have  had  if  he  had  only  said 
the  word,  was  to  be  present,  everybody  in  town  determined 
to  be  there.  So  it  came  about  that  there  was  much  discus 
sion  in  the  households  in  determining  who  should  have  the 
privilege  of  going  to  meeting,  and  who  should  be  elected  to 
stay  at  home  and  look  after  the  puddings  and  chickens  bak 
ing  in  the  ovens. 

There  was  one  citizen,  however,  who  had  no  thought  of 
attending  the  wedding,  —  Mr.  Meek.  He  was  busy  in  his 
counting-room  settling  up  his  affairs.  He  had  resolved  to 
dispose  of  every  acre  of  land  and  every  piece  of  property, 
so  that  when  he  had  once  left  Millbrook  he  never  would  be 
obliged  to  visit  the  place  again.  He  was  pale,  silent,  thought 
ful  and  ill  at  ease  ;  for  he  knew  that  some  of  his  fellow-citi 
zens  had  no  respect  for  him  and  would  be  glad  when  he  was 
gone.  Possibly  the  dislike  was  mutual,  for  some  of  those  who 
held  certificates  of  stock  in  the  Catawampus  Oil  Company 
informed  him  to  his  face  that  he  was  a  swindler. 

There  was  one  citizen,  however,  for  whom  Mr.  Meek  had 
great  respect,  Dan  Dishaway.  Mr.  Meek  knew  that  Dan  was 


484  Caleb  Krinkk. 

a  true  man,  for,  through  all  the  weeks  that  had  passed,  not  a 
whisper  had  escaped  Dan's  lips  in  regard  to  the  great  secret 
known  only  to  themselves. 

The  clerks  in  the  store  noticed  that  Mr.  Meek  was  not  only 
pale,  but  that  he  took  little  notice  of  what  was  going  on  around 
him.  He  was  lost  in  thought,  and  grew  thin  and  haggard. 
When  Mr.  Sharp  and  Mr.  Scribe  went  into  the  counting-room, 
one  evening,  to  witness  a  deed  which  he  wished  to  execute, 
and  another  document,  they  noticed,  as  he  wrote  his  name, 
that  his  nerves  were  unstrung. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  working  too  hard,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp. 

"  I  have  been  somewhat  under  the  weather  for  the  last 
few  days,  have  worked  a  little  too  hard,  perhaps ;  but  I  am 
most  through  with  it,  and  shall  soon  get  things  squared  up. 
Then  I  shall  have  all  the  time  that  I  want  to  rest  and  travel," 
Mr.  Meek  replied. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  as  he  retired. 

Mr.  Meek  turned  to  the  pile  of  papers  before  him.  The 
shop-boy  put  up  the  shutters  when  the  sexton  rang  the  nine 
o'clock  bell,  but  Mr.  Meek  was  still  examining  papers.  The 
boy  locked  the  store  and  went  home,  leaving  him,  as  he  had 
many  times  before,  for  Mr.  Meek  had  a  duplicate  key  and 
could  let  himself  out  when  he  was  through  with  his  work. 

In  the  morning  the  boy  came  and  took  down  the  shutters, 
and  the  rising  sun,  streaming  into  the  dingy  room,  fell  upon 
the  pale,  cold  brow  of  Mr.  Meek,  who  was  still  sitting  there, 
his  hand  grasping  deeds  and  mortgages,  but  motionless  for 
ever.  The  spiders  were  spinning  their  webs  in  the  corners 
above  him  to  catch  the  flies,  but  he  who  had  spun  so  many 
webs,  caught  so  many  struggling  victims  and  sucked  their 
blood,  was  sitting  with  bloodless  cheeks  and  listless  hands  — 
his  spinning  ended.  The  neighbors  came  and  gazed  upon 


A  Buzzing  in  Millbrook.  485 

the  scene  with  speechless  lips.  Doctor  Mayweed  felt  of  his 
wrist,  looked  into  the  glazed  eyes,  and  gave  his  verdict,  — 
"Disease  of  the  heart." 

Men  are  awe-stricken  in  the  presence  of  sudden  death 
by  the  visitation  of  God.  Whether  the  dead  were  loved  or 
hated,  when  we  see  them  lying  at  our  feet  we  walk  softly. 
So  it  was  on  that  morning  in  Millbrook.  Men  who  had  suf 
fered  at>the  hands  of  Mr.  Meek,  who  had  seen  their  hard 
earnings  transferred  to  his  pocket  through  the  Catawampus 
Swindle,  forgot  their  hatred,  feeling  that  the  time  is  coming 
when  all  wrongs  will  be  righted. 

"  How  sudden  !     Did  he  leave  a  will?  " 

The  question  followed  the  exclamation.  Moses  was  dead, 
and  Mr.  Meek  had  been  divorced  from  his  wife.  Had  he 
any  heirs?  If  not,  what  would  be  done  with  the  property? 
They  were  questions  which  all  Millbrook  was  turning  over. 

Mr.  Sharp,  the  head  clerk,  who  had  purchased  the  store, 
found  a  package  in  the  safe,  tied  around  with  red  tape,  sealed 
with  six  seals,  and  stamped  with  Mr.  Meek's  monogram,  M.  M. 
It  was  thus  directed  :  — 

FOR  DAN  DISHAWAY. 

To  be  opened  only  by  him. 

The  writing  was  underscored.  Mr.  Sharp  was  curious  to 
know  what  the  package  contained,  but,  being  an  honorable 
man,  went  up  to  the  cottage  and  delivered  it  to  Dan  just  as 
he  found  it. 

Dan  looked  at  the  envelope,  first  on  the  face,  —  reading 
the  writing.  Then  he  examined  the  back,  the  red  tape  and 
the  six  seals. 

"  Mr.  Meek  did  it  up  tight,  didn't  he?"  said  Dan 

"  Veiy,"  Mr.  Sharp  replied. 


486  Caleb  Krinkle. 

"  He  didn't  mean  to  have  it  come  open  ;  that's  plain," 
said  Dan,  looking  at  it  again  and  turning  it  over. 

"But  ain't  you  going  to  open  it?"  Mr.  Sharp  asked,  a 
little  nettled  at  Dan's  slowness. 

"  Well,  —  perhaps  so,  by  and  by ;  but  ye  see,  Mr.  Sharp, 
that  it  has  come  so  unexpected,  that  I  want  time  to  think 
of  it  first,"  said  Dan,  putting  the  package  in  his  pocket  and 
buttoning  his  coat. 

Mr.  Sharp  was  provoked  at  Dan's  coolness.  More  than 
that,  Dan  had  quietly  rebuked  his  curiosity.  Mr.  Sharp 
returned  to  the  store  no  wiser  than  before,  in  regard  to  the 
contents  of  the  package.  It  was  very  soon  understood, 
however,  that  Dan  knew  something  about  Mr.  Meek's  affairs, 
for  he  had  been  over  to  Hilltown  to  confer  with  the  Judge  of 
Probate,  and  besides,  he  was  looking  after  things  in  the 
Krinkle  Homestead.  —  The  people  so  thought  of  it ;  never 
as  Mr.  Meek's  house. 

Mrs.  Gabberly's  curiosity  was  aroused.  She  must  know 
about  Mr.  Meek's  affairs.  She  resolved  that  if  Dan  knew 
any  thing  about  matters,  she  would  worm  it  out  of  him.  She 
was  making  her  Thanksgiving  pies,  when,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  she  saw  Dan  upon  the  street.  She  left  her  rolling- 
pin  and  stepped  to  the  door. 

"Good-morning,  Dan  !  how  do  you  do  this  morning?" 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you  ;  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  kinder  middling,  but  what's  the  news  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  particular,  that  I  know  of,"  Dan  replied. 

"  Oh  !  by  the  way,  Dan,  they  say  that  you  know  all  about 
Mr.  Meek's  affairs." 

"Do  they?" 

"  Yes,  and  that  you  have  a  great,  big  bundle  of  papers,  all 
tied  round  with  red  tape,  with  six  great  daubs  of  sealing-wax 
on  it,  and  all  of  'em  stamped  on  with  the  letters  M.  M." 


A  Buzzing  in  Millbrook.  487 

"  How  large  did  they  say  the  bundle  was? " 

"  Oh,  they  didn't  exactly  say  how  big  it  was,  but  that  Mr. 
Sharp  found  it  in  Mr.  Meek's  safe,  and  that  it  was  directed 
to  you,  and  that  no  other  living  critter  under  the  sun  was  to 
open  it.  Now  just  tell  me  all  about  it ;  come,  that's  a  good 
fellow,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly,  coaxingly. 

"  Did  they  say  there  were  six  daubs  of  sealing-wax  on  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  wa'n't  five?  " 

"  No.     Mr.  Sharp  said  there  were  six." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Sharp  said  so,  did  he  ?  Well,  he's  a  sharp  man, 
and  he  ought  to  know,"  said  Dan,  with  great  gravity,  and 
added,  "  Are  you  sure  that  he  said  it  was  stamped  with 
the  letters  M.  M.?" 

"Yes,  that's  jest  what  he  said." 

"  Didn't  you  misunderstand  him.  Wasn't  it  P.  M.  ?  Mr. 
Meek  was  post-master,  you  know.  Then  P.  M.  stands  for 
afternoon,  and  for  particular  metre,"  said  Dan. 

"  You  know  it  wasn't  P.  M.,  you  aggravating  fellow.  Come 
now,  just  tell  me  what  there  was  inside  of  the  package  !  " 

•"  Do  you  really  want  to  know?" 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Won't  you  mention  it  to  anybody?  " 

"  Not  a  syllable." 

"Will  ye  keep  it  to  yourself,  sure?" 

"  I  won't  let  anybody  know." 

"Sartin,  now?  " 

"  Not  a  lisp  to  a  living  soul." 

Dan  came  a  little  nearer  to  the  front-yard  fence,  looked 
around  to  see  that  no  one  was  near,  lowered  his  voice,  and 
said,  confidentially,  — 

"Well,  Mrs.  Gabberly,  seeing  it's  you,  I'll  tell  you  how 
we'll  get  at  the  bottom  of  Mr.  Meek's  affairs.  You  jest  tell 


>j«S  Caleb  Krinkle. 

me  all  you  know,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  I  don't  know,  and  then 
we  shall  know  all  about  the  matter." 

"You  hateful  critter!"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly,  raising  her 
hand  10  slap  his  face,  as  he  turned  away. 

He  bowed  and  smiled  and  nodded  to  her  familiarly,  as 
ne  passed  up  the  street. 

Mrs.  Gabberly,  though  provoked  with  him,  could  not  be 
angry  at  the  kind-hearted  fellow.  She  went  into  the  house 
as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever.  Nor  could  she  understand 
why  Widow  Nubbin  should  be  down  to  the  Krinkle  Home 
stead,  dusting  the  furniture,  unless  the  party  in  Boston  who 
had  purchased  it  was  coming  up  to  keep  Thanksgiving,  and 
had  employed  Widow  Nubbin,  who  knew  all  about  the 
establishment,  to  set  things  to  rights. 

Thanksgiving  came.  Never  before  had  there  been  such 
an  outpouring  of  people.  Seats  in  the  gallery,  which  on 
Sunday  were  usually  empty,  on  this  day  were  packed  with 
expectant  people,  who  were  not  there  to  hear  Rev.  Mr. 
Orison  preach,  but  to  witness  a  marriage  ceremony,  which 
was  to  be  performed  at  the  close  of  the  regular  service. 
They  opened  their  eyes  with  amazement  when  they  saw  the 
great  array  of  flowers  around  the  pulpit,  —  wreaths  and 
bouquets  of  white  roses,  that  filled  the  house  with  perfume  — 
the  gift  of  Bertha  Wayland.  And  Miss  Wayland,  herself,  was 
there. 

In  the  months  gone  by,  when  Mrs.  Gabberly  came  home 
from  the  seashore  and  informed  everybody  that  Bertha  had 
supplanted  Linda  in  the  affections  of  Caleb,  the  people  of 
Millbrook  did  not  think  very  highly  of  her,  but  now,  when 
they  saw  how  beautiful  and  kind  and  good  she  was,  they 
forgot  all  the  disparaging  remarks  they  had  made,  and 
wanted  to  thank  her  for  contributing  so  much  by  her  gift 


A  Buzzing  in  Millbrook.  489 

and  her  own  presence  to  make  it  a  joyful  occasion.  Even 
if  there  had  been  no  flowers  around  the  pulpit,  she  herself 
would  have  filled  the  house,  as  it  were,  with  beauty. 

And  old  Peter,  the  white-haired  negro.  Caleb's  faithful 
friend,  was  there,  —  his  woolly  locks,  his  shining  face  and 
white  teeth  and  cotton  gloves  making  him  a  conspicuous 
object  in  the  congregation.  Bertha  could  not  deny  him 
the  pleasure  of  being  present  on  the  joyful  occasion.  He 
had  guarded  the  floral  tribute  all  the  way  from  Boston  to 
Millbrook  in  the  cars  and  on  the  stage,  and  had  stood 
guard  over  the  decorations  all  the  morning  in  the  meeting 
house. 

Father  Canticle  had  gone  to  his  reward,  and  Rev.  Mr. 
Orison,  a  young  man  fresh  from  the  Theological  Seminary, 
was  the  minister. 

"We  sometimes  find,"  said  the  preacher  in  his  address  to 
the  congregation,  "  when  we  have  marked  out  a  grand 
scheme  of  life,  that  God  had  a  plan  entirely  different  from 
ours.  In  our  hearts  we  know  that  His  is  the  best,  yet,  like 
self-willed  children,  we  want  our  own  way.  God  shows  his 
kindness  to  us,  however,  in  not  always  letting  us  have  it. 
Some  of  us  may  have  shed  bitter  tears  while  burying  our 
dead  hopes,  but  as  flowers  blooming  above  a  grave  draw 
their  life  and  beauty  from  the  mouldering  form  beneath, 
so  out  of  our  sorrows  sometimes  bloom  our  brightest  joys. 
As  the  violets  lie  beneath  the  snow  of  winter,  but  appear 
in  "race  and  beauty  when  spring  breathes  upon  them,  so 
shall  there  be  a  resurrection  and  an  immortality  for  all  the 
good  we  accomplish.  A  passing  team^  grinds  an  acorn 
into  the  earth,  and  so  some  lives  are  crushed  beneath  the 
wheels  of  the  revolving  year.  We  think  that  nothing  can 
come  of  our  efforts,  but  God  never  forgets  any  thing. .  The 
acorn  springs  up,  becomes  an  oak,  that  braves  the  storms 


49  o  Caleb  K tinkle. 

of  centuries  ;  and  in  the  same  way  the  good  life,  with  its 
germ  of  immortality,  lives  and  grows  forever." 

Bertha  Wayland,  sitting  there,  and  hearing  these  soul-in 
spiring  words,  looked  far  away,  not  backward  to  a  regret 
ful  past,  but  onward  to  a  hopeful  future. 

When  the  minister  had  finished  his  address,  the  organ 
began  a  voluntary,  and  while  it  was  playing,  Caleb  and 
Linda  and  Job  and  Mary  rose  from  their  seats  and  passed 
slowly  up  the  aisle.  Linda  and  Mary  had  not  troubled 
themselves  about  wedding-dresses.  They  had  said,  "  Our 
lives  are  to  be  plain,  and  we  will  be  married  in  plain 
dress." 

There  was  a  flutter  and  excitement,  and  a  stretching  up 
of  necks.  Those  who  occupied  seats  in  the  rear  stood  up, 
while  those  who  were  low  of  stature  stood  upon  the  crick 
ets  in  the  pews.  Slowly,  arm  in  arm,  keeping  step  to  the 
music  of  the  organ,  they  moved  toward  the  vacant  space 
in  front  of  the  pulpit,  where  the  minister  was  standing. 

There  was  a  lady  and  gentleman  following  them.  The 
people  opened  their  eyes  wide.  What!  Widow  Nubbin  ! 
Dan  Dishaway !  Greater  the  excitement.  Louder  the 
buzzing.  Were  not  their  eyes  deceiving  them?  Could 
it  be  possible  that  the  gentleman  in  a  new  and  neatly- 
fitting  frock  coat,  his  hair  nicely  trimmed  and  parted,  walk 
ing  so  proudly  up  the  aisle,  with  Widow  Nubbin  leaning 
on  his  arm,  was  Dan  Dishaway  ? 

"Well,  I  declare  !  "  said  Miss  Hyssop  to  a  friend. 

"  If  that  don't  beat  all !  "  her  friend  replied. 

"  I  never  should  have  mistrusted  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly 
to  the  landlord  of  the  "  Flying  Eagle,"  who  stood  by  her 
side.  "Well,  Dan  has  been  and  gone  and  done  it,  sure 
enough,"  she  added. 

"  No;  he's  just  going  to  do  it,"  the  landlord  replied. 


A  Buzzing  in  Millbrook.  491 

"  I  should  ascertain,  sah,  dat  de  whole  congregation  was 
about  to  jine  hands  on  dis  fallacious  'casion,  sah,"  said 
Peter,  addressing  the  landlord. 

The  parties  stood  before  the  minister.  The  organ 
ceased  and  the  buzzing  died  away.  The  listening  assem 
bly  heard  the  words  :  — 

"  To  love,  to  honor,  to  cherish  each  the  one  whom  you 
have  chosen,  till  deaih  shall  part  you." 

A  few  more  words  and  the  ceremony  was  over,  but  still 
the  parties  stood  there.  The  minister  took  a  paper  from 
his  pocket. 

"It  is  suitable,"  he  said,  "en  this  joyful  day,  while  our 
hearts  are  so  full  of  gladness,  to  recognize  every  thing  that 
is  good.  I  am  directed  by  the  executor  of  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  Mr.  Moses  Meek,  now  deceased,  to  read 
the  same  to  the  congregation." 

A  commotion,  and  then  so  still  the  house  that  everybody 
could  hear  the  clock  counting  the  seconds. 

"  Know  all  men,  by  this  writing,  that  I,  Moses  Meek,  of  sound 
mind,  and  in  possession  of  all  my  faculties,  knowing  the  disappoint 
ments  of  life  and  that  there  is  nothing  certain  in  this  world  but  death, 
which  I  feel  may  come  to  me  at  any  moment,  do  hereby  make  my  last 
will  and  testament.  Knowing  the  honesty  and  integrity  of  Dan  Dish- 
.away,  I  do  hereby  appoint  him  to  be  sole  executor  of  this  instrument. 

"  I  have  already  conveyed  to  the  said  Dan  Dishaway,  in  trust,  the  sum 
of  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  be  paid  to  Caleb  Krinkle,  to  whom  it 
rightfully  belongs.  I  have  also  conveyed  by  deed  to  the  said  Caleb 
Krinkle  the  farm  which  was  formerly  his  father's." 

There  was  a  renewed  commotion  throughout  the  congre 
gation. 

"  I  hereby  direct  my  executor  to  pay  to  each  original  subscriber  to 
the  Catawampus  Oil  Company  the  full  amount  of  his  subscription." 


492  Caleb  Krinkle. 

Greater  the  commotion. 

"The  remainder  of  my  estate,  real  and  personal,  wherever  found,  I 
give  and  bequeath  to  Winifred  Vanzant,  my  own  child,  whose  mother 
I  grievously  wronged.  I  know  that  the  evil  which  men  do  lives  after 
them,  and  so  by  these  acts  I  would  make  amends,  so  far  as  is  in  my 
power,  for  my  wrong-doing.  I  ask  forgiveness  of  all  whom  I  have 
wronged,  as  I  do  of  my  God." 

What  a  buzzing!  What  wonder!  'What  amazement! 
What  exclamations  !  And  all  so  happy,  so  joyful,  so  inex 
pressibly  glad  —  for  Caleb,  for  Linda,  for  Job,  for  Mary, 
for  Winifred,  for  Widow  Nubbin  —  widow  no  longer  —  and 
for  Dan,  the  generous-hearted. 

What  hand-shaking  !  All  the  share-holders  of  the  Cat- 
awampus  Company  were  grasping  each  other  by  the  hand 
and  saying,  "  This  is  a  Thanksgiving  worth  having."  Then 
the  thought  came,  "If  we  are  so  joyful  here,  how  great 
must  be  the  joy  in  the  world  above  over  a  sinner  that  re 
pents  of  his  wrong  doing  !  " 

While  the  citizens  were  thus  exchanging  congratulations, 
Linda  and  Caleb,  Mary  and  Job,  and  Deborah  and  Dan 
were  receiving  the  salutations  of  their  friends. 

Bertha  and  Bell  walked  up  the  aisle  arm  in  arm,  to  salute 
the  brides.  Very  loving  was  the  exchange  of  kisses  be 
tween  Linda  and  Bertha,  and  very  tender  that  benediction 
which  she  pronounced  upon  Linda  and  Caleb  as  she  held 
them,  the  one  by  her  right  hand  and  the  other  with  her 
left. 

"  God  bless  you  both  !  " 

Nor  did  it  cost  her  a  pang  to  say  it.  There  was  no  bit 
terness  nor  sorrow.  She  could  rejoice  in  their  happiness 
from  an  overflowing  heart.  Because  they  were  happy  hei 
own  happiness  was  complete. 


A  Buzzing  in  Millbrook.  493 

"Come  and  see  us,"  said  Caleb  to  the  people.  "Come 
to  my  old  home  to-night,  on  this  the  happiest  day  of 
my  life.  Come  all  of  you  —  old  and  young  —  and  let  us 
be  joyful  together." 


CHAPTER  LIL 

THE   OLD    HOME. 

r  I  ^HE  people,  as  they  rode  home  from  meeting  10  eat 
JL  their  Thanksgiving  dinners,  and  while  gathered  in 
family  circles  around  the  bountifully-spread  tables,  talked 
of  the  wonderful  come-about  of  events.  Now  they  could 
see  what  sort  of  a  spectre  it  was  that  had  been  following 
Mr.  Meek  through  life.  lie  had  deserted  a  confiding  girl, 
filled  her  life  with  shame;  had  married  a  woman  old 
enough  to  be  his  mother,  for  money  which  he  never 
obtained  ;  had  renewed  his  intimacy  with  the  woman  he  had 
first  loved,  and  Winifred  —  if  not  in  law  —  by  his  will  and 
by  equity,  was  therefore  his  rightful  heir.  Now  they  could 
understand  what  Dan  had  been  up  to  during  the  last  few 
days  at  the  Krinkle  mansion,  and  why  Widow  Nubbin  had 
been  down  there  setting  things  to  rights.  It  was  all  Dan's 
planning.  He  would  have  Caleb  and  Linda,  after  their 
marriage,  go  at  once  to  the  old  home,  where  the  fires 
would  be  lighted  and  the  sun  streaming  into  the  rooms. 
More  than  that,  they  learned  that  Deborah  had  a  Thanks 
giving  dinner  all  prepared,  —  a  turkey  roasting  and  a  plum- 
pudding  baking  in  the  oven,  and  pies,  tarts,  nuts  and 
raisins  in  the  pantry,  —  not  only  for  the  new  master  and 
mistress,  but  for  Bertha  Wayland,  Winifred,  herself,  and 
494 


The  Old  Home.  495 

Dan  and  Mother  Dishaway.  Together,  Dan  and  Deborah 
had  planned  to  make  it  the  happiest  Thanksgiving  party 
in  Millbrook  or  anywhere  else.  And  old  Peter  was  there 
to  wait  upon  them. 

The  people  said  to  themselves  and  to  each  other,  "  Who 
but  Dan  could  have  carried  around  for  weeks  a  secret  so 
momentous  as  that  which  he  had  discovered  ?  Who  be 
sides  Dan  could  have  confronted  Mr.  Meek  and  compelled 
him  to  make  restitution  to  Caleb  ?  Who  would  have 
thought  that  there  was  so  much  energy,  reserved  force, 
and  determination  in  the  kind-hearted  fellow? 

Evening  came,  and  as  the  full  moon  rose  above  the 
eastern  horizon,  the  people  assembled  at  the  Krinkle 
farmhouse,  old  and  young  together.  The  house  was  aglow 
with  lights,  —  in  parlor,  sitting-room,  chamber  and  kitchen. 
That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  make  the  evening  en 
joyable,  the  farmers'  wives  brought  cold  roast-chicken, 
pies,  cakes,  doughnuts,  tarts,  jellies  and  jam,  and  spread  a 
bountiful  repast  in  the  dining-room.  They  took  possession 
of  the  kitchen,  and  made  coffee  and  tea. 

Old  Peter  had  brought  the  flowers,  the  bouquets  and 
garlands  from  the  meeting-house,  and  Bertha,  Bell  and 
Daisy  re-arranged  them  in  the  parlor  and  sitting-room. 
The  roses,  heliotropes  and  calla-lilies  filled  the  house  with 
their  fragrance.  To  add  to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening, 
the  young  men  composing  the  Millbrook  band  brought 
their  instruments,  stationed  themselves  in  the  hall,  and 
played  their  choicest  tunes. 

The  young  folks  gathered  in  the  sitting-room,  and  had 
their  romp  and  games  of  "  Copenhagen "  and  "  Blind 
Man's  Buff,"  while  the  old  folks  gathered  in  the  parlor,  or 
made  themselves  at  home  in  the  dining-room  and  kitchen, 


496  Caleb  Kr inkle. 

talking  over  the  events  of  the  clay.  When  supper  was 
ready,  they  ate  till  they  could  eat  no  more,  and  told  stories, 
and  laughed  till  their  sides  ached. 

If  it  was  a  pleasure  to  Caleb  to  take  his  friends  by  the 
hand  in  his  old  home  and  to  receive  their  congratulations, 
it  was  equally  a  pleasure  to  them  to  see  him  there,  with 
Linda  on  his  arm,  —  his  true-hearted  wife. 

Great  was  their  respect  for  Bertha,  who,  in  her  beauty 
and  queenly  dignity,  stood  among  them,  seemingly  the 
happiest  person  present.  They  knew  that  she  could  re 
joice  with  all  her  heart  in  the  happiness  of  Linda  and 
Caleb. 

And  Bell  was  there,  with  the  old-time  smiles  running 
over  her  face,  happy  because  Linda  and  Caleb  were 
happy,  and  because  everybody  was  having  a  good  time. 

"It  will  be  your  turn  now,  Bell.  We  shall  see  you  flying 
off  the  handle  next,"  said  Mrs.  Gabberly  to  Bell. 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  no  !  I'm  going  to  be  an  old  maid.  Single 
blessedness  isn't  the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  a 
girl.  The  world  couldn't  get  along  without  old  maids, 
you  know,"  Bell  replied,  laughing. 

Later  in  the  evening,  not  only  Mrs.  Gabberly,  but  sev 
eral  other  folks,  saw  that  Bell  and  Mr.  Felloe,  the  young 
widower,  were  talking  together  in  a  corner,  and  that  Bell 
seemed  to  be  greatly  interested  in  what  he  was  saying, 
and  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  in  due  time  there 
would  be  another  wedding,  and  that  Bell  would  be  mis 
tress  of  Mr.  Felloe's  home. 

When  the  company  had  eaten  supper,  and  were  gathered 
once  more  in  the  parlor,  Mr.  Makepeace,  addressing  Ca 
leb,  said  :  — 

"  In  behalf  of  the  company,  Mr.  Krinkle,  allow  me  to 
say  to  you,  on  this  joyful  evening,  that  we  welcome  you 


The  Old  Home.  497 

with  all  our  heart  to  your  old  home,  and  that  it  gives  us 
pleasure  to  be  here  to  take  you  by  the  hand  on  this,  the 
happiest  day  of  your  life.  We  know  what  trials  you  have 
encountered,  what  troubles  have  beset  your  path,  and  how 
you  have  overcome  them.  Your  devotion  to  principle  and 
to  duty,  and  to  Linda  —  no  longer  a  maiden,  but  a  wife 
—  will  ever  be  an  inspiration  to  us  all.  I  need  not  say 
more,  save  to  express  the  hope  that  your  future  may  ever 
be  as  blissful  as  the  present  hour." 

There  was  a  clapping  of  hands  throughout  the  apart 
ment,  and  the  band  in  the  hall  took  up  the  applause  and 
filled  the  mansion  with  music. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Caleb,  when  the  music  ceased,  "  I 
cannot  express  my  thanks  to  you  for  your  kindness.  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  see  you,  to  look  into  your  faces,  to  feel  the 
warm  grasp  of  your  hands  ;  but  I  have  not  done  any  thing 
to  command  such  friendship  as  you  have  manifested.  If 
I  have  made  any  headway  against  adverse  circumstances,  it 
is  because  a  true-hearted  girl  led  me  on  ever  to  a  higher 
ideal." 

Again  there  was  a  clapping  of  hands,  which  brought 
blushes  to  Linda's  face. 

"  And  not  only  that,"  Caleb  continued,  "  but  I  am  also 
indebted  to  one  of  your  number  for  any  success  that  may 
have  attended  me  hitherto." 

Caleb  took  a  wallet  from  his  pocket,  opened  it  and  un 
folded  a  paper,  yellowed  by  time  and  worn  almost  to 
tatters. 

"On  that  morning  in  the  years  gone  by,"  he  continued, 
"when  I  went  out  from  Millbrook  penniless,  without  a  pur 
pose,  and  alone,  not  knowing  whither  I  was  going,  and  all 
my  future  a  blank,  I  received  this  from  the  hand  of  a  very 
dear  friend.  Allow  me  to  read  the  writing  :  — 

32 


498  Caleb  Krinkle. 

" '  Strict  integrity. 
Firm  purpose. 
Constant  endeavor. 
Patient  waiting. 
Trust  in  God: 

"  As  the  sailor  in  mid-ocean  looks  up  to  the  sun  to  know 
whither  he  is  sailing,  so  in  my  hours  of  loneliness,  when 
wind  and  tide  were  against  me,  and  I  seemed  to  be  drift 
ing  farther  and  farther  from  port,  I  have  turned  to  this 
paper,  yellowed  by  time  and  worn  with  constant  carrying, 
and  have  taken  new  courage." 

Caleb  turned  to  Dan  Dishaway,  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"  To  you,  my  clear  friend,  who  rescued  me  from  drown 
ing  in  childhood,  who  gave  me  this  paper,  and  cheered  me 
with  kind  words  on  that  morning  when  I  left  Millbrook, 
I  am  indebted  for  all  I  am  and  all  I  hope  to  be.  God  bless 
you,  Dan!" 

Long  and  loud  the  applause.  And  there  stood  Dan, 
his  face  covered  with  blushes,  not  knowing  what  to  do 
with  himself.  He  could  only  bow  and  smile  and  hang  his 
head,  while  the  room  rang  again  with  applause. 

"  There  is  one  other  friend  whom  I  want  to  thank,"  said 
Caleb,  when  the  applause  had  died  a\v.y;  "and  here  he 
is.  Old  Peter,  for  he  it  was  who  sat  b  iny  side  day  and 
night,  while  life  and  death  were  hanging  in  even  balance. 
Let  me  shake  hands  with  you,  Peter,"  said  Caleb,  extend 
ing  his  hand. 

Peter,  wearing  a  dress-suit,  with  white  gloves,  proud  of 
the  respect  shown  him,  came  forward  with  dignity  to  shake 
hands  with  Mr.  Krinkle. 

"  Tank  you,  Mr.  Krinkle,  for  de  honor  and  de  'spect 
you  have  conferred  upon  me,  sah,  on  dis  joyful  'casion. 


The  Old  Home.  499 

1  should  ascertain,  sah,  dat  if  it  hadn't  been  for  old  Peter 
and  Doctor  Tragacanth,  dere  never  would  have  been  no 
such  'casion  as  dis  year,  sah;  but  old  Peter,  with  de  help 
:>f  de  Good  Lord  and  Doctor  Tragacanth,  pulled  you 
jhrough,  sah,  right  away  from  de  jaws  .of  clef,  sah.  It 
2;ives  old  Peter  de  greatest  pleasure  to  be  present  on  clis 
casion.  May  de  Good  Lord  bless  you,  Massa  Krinkle, 
and  you  too,  Missus  Krinkle."  Peter  made  a  low  bow, 
amid  the  applause  of  the  company. 

Then  there  were  hand-shakings  and  parting  salutations,  af 
fectionate  and  tender,  as  the  guests  one  by  one  took  their 
departure.  So  passed  the  pleasantest  Thanksgiving  ever 
known  in  Millbrook. 

And  now,  when  visitors  to  the  mountains  in  mid-summer 
pass  through  the  town,  they  not  unfrequently  see  Dan  and 
Deborah  sitting  upon  the  piazza  of  the  Krinkle  homestead, 
Dan  playing  his  violin,  Deborah  knitting,  and  a  little  boy  tod 
dling  from  one  to  the  other.  Dan  no  longer  drives  his  cart 
over  the  hills,  but  is  looking  after  Caleb  Krinkle's  affairs. 
When  the  summer  vacation  comes,  Caleb,  himself  and  Linda, 
and  Winifred,  in  the  bloom  of  girlhood,  and  Miss  Bertha  Way- 
land,  are  also  seen  sitting  there,  or  else  playing  croquet  be 
neath  the  old  elm  in  the  dooryard.  When  the  swallows  fly 
to  their  southern  homes,  they  too  return  to  their  work  in  the 
city.  Caleb  is  Bertha's  adviser,  friend  and  brother,  and  be 
tween  Linda  and  Bertha  there  is  a  friendship  which  only  death 
can  sever. 

In  mid-winter,  when  the  winds  sweep  through  the  lanes 
and  alleys  of  the  city,  rattling  doors  and  windows,  when  the 
hoar  frost  creeps  into  the  house  of  the  poor  and  leaves  its 
frozen  rime  upon  the  window-pane,  when  the  snow  lies  deep 
upon  the  pavements,  the  policemen  going  their  rounds  see 


5°o  Caleb  Krinkle. 

a  lady  in  water-proof,  mittens  and  thick  boots  passing  through 
the  alleys  and  into  out-of-the-way  places,  calling  upon  the 
poor,  the  sick,  the  suffering ;  and  as  they  watch  the  receding 
form  of  Bertha  Wayland,  say  to  themselves,  "There  goes 
one  of  God's  angels,  and  wherever  she  goes  there  is  less  of 
Hell  and  more  of  Heaven." 


A     000  029  436     3 


JU 


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